Pandora's Box
by MuckyShroom
Summary: Jax discovered some of Tig's…toys in the cellar of the clubhouse. He should return them straight away… really he should, just… maybe… after… Warning: Lemons, lots of lovely juicy, tart lemons.
1. Chapter 1

Written in collaboration with the most excellent Laughing Warrior. If you haven't read her works, you're really missing out. Oi! Hey, don't bugger off just yet, read this first!

_**The mundane bit:**_

We own no part of Sons of Anarchy.

_Parental Advisory Warning:_ Contains activities of an adult nature, only to be performed between consenting adults.

_**The interesting bit: Chapter 1.**_

"What the fuck happened?" Jax came storming into the clubhouse, his trademark swagger even more distinct in his anger. It wasn't yet noon, too early in the day for bullshit like this. He and Tara had had another blowout last night about her wanting to leave Charming and take his sons away, and she'd left for work this morning, and taken Abel and Thomas to daycare, without a word—without even a note. He was _really_ not in the mood.

Chibs was sitting at the bar with Bobby, hovering over a cup of hot coffee, probably Irish. He rose from his barstool and moved into the President's path. "Easy, brutha. Just a burst pipe. We got it stopped. But the basement's flooded, and there's shite down there we gotta deal with before the plumbers get here. Prospects cleaned up best they could, but some of what's down there is above their pay grade."

"Has anyone even _been_ in the basement?" Truth be told, Jax had completely forgotten the building even had a basement. He couldn't remember ever having gone down there, and he'd been _raised_ in this clubhouse.

Chibs made a wry smirk. "From wha' I saw, I'd say Tig's been down there a time 'er two. That's not the shite I'm worried about, though. C'mon. Lemme show ye."

They went down the hall, where the carpet runner had been pulled back and a trap door exposed. A narrow, fold-out staircase descended into a dark void, like something out of a horror movie. Chibs went down first; Jax followed. As he stepped off the ladder, he went about ankle-deep into water. "Fuck!"

Chibs laughed. "Sorry. Told ye it was flooded."

Once they were down, it wasn't quite as dark. A couple of bare bulbs hanging from the low ceiling pushed back the gloom. Jax looked around. Most of the space was empty. Some random basement-type odds and ends, but nothing much. There was a large metal table off to one side, however. If Jax's spatial orientation was right, it was just about underneath the chapel and the carved wooden table around which they sat at least weekly.

On that metal table were several boxes in varying degrees of waterlogged. Chibs and Jax sloshed over and checked them out. Most were boxes of papers, all of them from years before—when J.T. was alive. Jax rifled through the yellowing pages. He was shocked at the records his father had kept. It seemed absurdly reckless to have this all on paper. "We need to burn this shit."

"Right, boss. S'what I thought. I'll call the shitheads back down for 'em."

Jax nodded and pulled a much bigger box across the table, opening the flaps. He peered in. "Jesus Christ."

Chibs laughed. "Told ye I thought Tiggy'd been down here more'n the rest of us. He's been keeping his toys down here."

Jax stared into the box and fought to keep his jaw from dropping. He won the battle, but only just. His hand hovered over the open box. His eyes couldn't make sense of all of what he was seeing, but he, President of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, hardened and cold-blooded killer, couldn't bring himself to sort through the mass of rubber, leather and steel.

"Shit!" He muttered. "He's been using this shit on the girls? How the fuck have we got any 'Eaters left?"

Chibs peered over Jax's shoulder. "Christ! It's a wonder we've nae found one or two chained up down 'ere. What the feck is that?"

Jax knocked Chibs' reaching hand away and folded the lids of the box closed.

"We can't leave this down here. Not that I give a shit what it does for our reputation, but word gets out and it'll be the last time we'll ever be able to do any fund raisers for the schools or charity shit for the kids' ward at St Thomas. Christ! He's a fucking deviant!"

"Aye. That's our Tiggy, bless 'im."

Chibs and Jax waded back to the step ladder and trudged back up into the clubhouse, the soaked hems of their jeans making their steps heavy and leaving dripping trails of water behind them. Both men gulped relieved lungfuls of moderately fresh air. The miasma of smoke, sweat and wheaty alcohol that was the permanent odour of the clubhouse was a welcome reprieve from the heavy, musty damp of the flooded basement.

As Chibs hollered for the prospects, Jax went to put the box behind the bar. Halfway there he halted mid-step and thought better of it. "Fuck!" He muttered to himself. "Can't have this shit laying around. Fuck knows who might get hold of it."

"More'n likely yer'll find dildos poppin' up all ova tha place." Chibs said quietly, having followed after Jax once he'd finished yelling.

"I'll take it back to mine. Tig can come and collect his shit or I'll get rid of it."

Jax carried the box out of the clubhouse, holding it slightly away from his body as if afraid the contents would contaminate him somehow. He walked all the way to his bike before he realized that there was no fucking way he'd be able to get the box on the bike. It was too big.

"Fuck!" He turned around and stormed back inside. "Chibs—I'm taking the van. I'll be back for my bike later. Goddammit." He hated riding in a damn cage.

Jax pulled into his driveway and yanked the box out of the back. Tara's car wasn't there. She was still at the hospital—that was good, anyway. He juggled the box and the house keys in a desperate endeavor to prevent the contents of the box cascading all over his front porch. Having managed to get into the house without exposing his neighbors to Tig's excesses, Jax dumped the box onto the small dining table. It settled with a series of small noises, mostly the clink of metal against metal. He stepped back and just looked at the box where it sat innocuously amidst his homely furniture, before he turned into the kitchen and snagged a carton of milk from the fridge. Drinking directly from the carton he tipped his head back, savoring the fresh cold, liquid.

He paused, carton in hand, staring back into the house. He didn't want to, really, he didn't want to. There was a whole mess of shit in that box. Jax wasn't exactly a prude. After splitting from Wendy, before Tara had appeared back in town, he'd gained a bit of a reputation with the ladies, but the stuff in that box was way beyond his wheelhouse, way beyond it. There was… a sneaking voice in his ear, a sick sort of compulsion, like riding past a crash, he just had to look.

With hesitant steps he made his way back over to the box, sat there, so innocently, on the table It was stupid. No one was in the house, no one would see. Why did he feel the taint of Tig on his skin at just the thought of delving into that… Pandora's Box.

His feet made their own way without instruction from his brain. Before he knew it he was stood at the table with the box, just sitting there, in front of him. His hands, seemingly of their own volition, set the milk carton down and reached for the top of the box.

He stared at the contents for long seconds, unable to comprehend individual items. He reached in, and began to pull the toys out one by one, laying them delicately on the table.

Apart from the obvious assortment of dildos, anal beads, blindfolds and such that he'd seen in use at Cara Cara, there were a few other things, some of which defied explanation. There was a roll of what looked like shiny black duct tape and something that Jax recognized as a spreader bar. He'd pretty much expected to find some sort of whip, so the flogger and the cat o' nine tails weren't exactly a surprise, but the long thin plastic stick topped with feathers threw him for a moment.

It took him a few moments to organize the strips of black leather with strategically placed steel loops until he recognized the short part went around the neck and figured out that the rest either draped down the front of the back of a body. The cuffs dangling from the lowest loops of the longest length could obviously be attached to any of the series of D-rings, forcing the arms higher or lower as required.

There was a deceptively innocent item consisting of three lengths of chain. But it was the three wicked tweezer-type attachments on the end of each piece that caused Jax to pause. When he'd laid it out on the table in a form that made sense, he felt his cock begin to swell in his jeans. The long, silver, rubber-tipped tweezers with a silver bell at their apex had a similar effect.

The next item he pulled out, though, left him confused. Partly, the idea of it, once he'd figured it out, excited him; but there was a large part of him that felt ashamed of that excitement. Surely no one normal would want to use this?! It was an equal mix of leather and steel. A metal ring was fixed by four large metal hooks to two leather straps which obviously buckled together. After a few moments of twisting and turning it in his hands he figured out it was a gag, then he realized that the purpose of the gag was to force the wearer's mouth open. On the one hand the idea of someone being used whilst wearing such an item repulsed him, on the other; subjugating someone in that manner, especially if used in conjunction with a couple of the other items in the box, had him reaching to readjust himself in his denim.

The last item that had fallen, almost lost into a corner of the box, had Jax questioning if Hap hadn't been involved somehow with this eclectic collection. It was a metal implement consisting of a long slender handle and at the end, seven wheels, side by side, each wheel ringed with spikes. He ran it over the palm of his hand. It definitely didn't tickle, but the spikes didn't hurt, he couldn't even define them as pin-pricks, it was more of a sharp but insistent pressure.

Jax looked at the selection of toys strewn over his innocent dining table and shuddered, feeling the chill travel the length of his spine. He quickly gathered them all up and stowed them back in the box, which he carefully placed on the sideboard, pushed to the back, out of the reach of searching little hands.

He settled down on the sofa to watch a sports news channel, gulping deeply from the carton of milk to quench his suddenly parched throat. It must have been later than he realized because it wasn't long before Tara tumbled through the front door, Thomas on one hip, various bags slung over her other shoulder, and Abel ushered before her lest he decide to follow his usual impulse to run off down the street after his friends.

Between the hectic routine of getting the kids into the house, getting them settled and getting supper cooked and the table set and everyone fed, it felt as though they hardly had chance to say two words to each other. If he was honest, Jax wasn't sure where he'd start the conversation. "Hey honey, guess what we found in the flooded basement of the club house today?" Their last words, last night, had been angry ones, and Jax still didn't know where they stood, whether her relative warmth now was for the boys' benefit, or whether the fight was over. For whatever reason, for the life of him he just couldn't organize his thoughts into a G-rated conversation.

They tripped through the usual routine of getting both children ready for bed and settled in their respective beds and cribs. Jax had kissed Abel goodnight and had resumed his spot from earlier on the sofa when Tara came back into the room after settling Thomas.

"What's this?" Jax feigned deafness as the box on the sideboard caught her eye.

Tara took half a step back as she opened the box and discovered the contents. "Oh my!" She turned to Jax. "What _is_ all that?"

Jax turned off the TV and went over to her. "Pipe burst in the basement at the clubhouse last night. We had to clean shit out of there for the plumbers. I found this down there. Gotta be Tig's shit."

"And you brought it here? Into our house, with our boys? Jax, what were you thinking? This stuff is . . . sick." She was rifling through the box as she talked, pulling pieces out, one at a time, much as he'd done earlier in the day.

Jax moved to stand right behind her and put his chin on her shoulder. Watching her fondle Tig's toys had his cock all kinds of alert. "Sorry, babe. I was thinking I had to get it out of the clubhouse, where who the hell knows would get into it. We don't need people outside the club knowing about Tig's deviant psycho shit. Talk about a PR problem."

"Yeah, but here?" She'd found the nipple/clit clamp combo that had caught Jax's interest earlier. He watched her untangle the chain and work out the sense of it. When she did, she dropped it back into the box as if it an electrical current had suddenly run through it.

"Not a lot of options, babe." He put his hands on her hips and kissed the side of her neck.

She pulled the neck and wrist restraint gizmo out and ran her fingers over the soft, pliable leather. "I'm still pissed, you know. You can't think I'll keep my boys in Charming just because you think you've laid down the law." She figured out what the piece she was holding was and whispered, "Oh." Jax knew that sound. She was turned on. Tig's toys had her hot. His cock pulsed hard.

He clutched her hips and gave her neck a bite. "_Our_ boys. And shut the fuck up. We can fight later." He didn't know whether it was her threat to take his family away, or the sight of her fingers winding around Tig's toys, or just the presence of her, this woman, his old lady, who'd haunted his thoughts since he was 16 years old, but he had a sudden, overwhelming need to dominate her. He wanted to bind her, hold her, keep her.

Sucking on her neck, he slid one hand into her jeans and the other under her bra. She gasped and relaxed back on him, her head on his shoulder. He pinched her clit and her nipple at the same time, hard, giving each a sharp little pull. She arched back with a strangled shriek, as if, remembering their children sleeping down the hall, she'd caught her full-throated wail at just the last second.

He did it again, this time rolling her between his fingers as he pulled. "Oh, fuck, Jax!"

He released her and straightened her clothes. His mouth against her ear, he murmured, "I think we should try out some of Tig's shit, babe. You up for it?"

Tara was quiet for several seconds, resting back against him, panting lightly. "Like what?," she finally asked.

Jax pulled the neck and wrist restraint back out. "This for sure." He turned her chin so he could look her in the eyes. "Okay?" After a moment spent contemplating the apparatus, she nodded.

"Good girl. Now you pick something." Right away, she pulled the nipple and clit clamps out. Jax laughed with delight. "Oh, babe. You nasty girl. Come on." He led her toward their bedroom.

But Tara pulled back. "Wait."

Jax stopped and turned to her, already starting to feel pissed that she'd dangle this in front of him and then back out. "What?"

"That's Tig's stuff. It needs to be cleaned before we use it." That was a damn good point, actually. Probably should be sterilized. Twice. But Jax didn't want to wait that long. He thought for a minute, then grinned and grabbed her. "I got it. Come on." On the way down the hall, he grabbed the box of baby wipes off the divider between the hall and the living room. They'd do.

Jax thought he'd hold off telling Tig to claim his shit. There was more in that box he wanted to try out.

Once they'd reached the sanctuary of their room, Jax slid the small bolt on the door home. It wasn't often that they felt the need to use it, but this was definitely one of those times that it wouldn't do for Abel to wander in wanting a glass of water.

He turned to find Tara stood at the end of the bed, the sliver chains dangling from her fingers, just watching him. He paused a moment to enjoy the feeling of seeing her stood waiting for him; his woman, waiting for her man to fuck her, to make her scream. And boy was he going to make her scream. With a crooked smirk lighting his face he swaggered over to her. He tossed the leather restraint and the baby wipes onto the bed and ran his palm lightly down her arm from her elbow to her finger tips. He twisted the chain in his own palm and tugged it from her, before dropping it on the bed too.

He slid his fingers into her hair, his palms brushing her cheeks, cupping her face as he pulled her into a deep kiss. He could feel her body relax against him, feel her moulding herself to him as she tried to get closer. He almost jumped at the electricity that flowed over him when he felt her delve under his hoodie, running her hands over his hips just above his low-slung jeans. The smirk returned when Tara broke their kiss, still running her palms upwards, signaling for him to raise his arms. He did so, allowing her to pull the garment over his head. She wore her own satisfied smirk as her gaze roamed over him. Seeing her look at him like that, desire naked in her eyes, had him licking his lips in anticipation.

"Off," he murmured, jerking the hem of her top.

He was pleased when she stepped back, giving him space to appreciate the view. She paused to shake her long, chocolate curls over her shoulders before pinching the hem of her tank top with both hands, raising it steadily, but slowly, until she could pull it over her head and toss it across the room. He thought she'd go for the bra next, but with a wicked grin she stroked the waistband of her jeans before unfastening them and smoothing them slowly over her hips and down her thighs. She stepped out of them and kicked them over to join her discarded top.

He licked his lips again and scrubbed a palm over his beard. His Old Lady was a vision, standing before him with nothing but black lace over her porcelain skin. The design of the lingerie set revealed more than it covered. Jax reached out to cup a breast in his palm, intending to run his thumb over the rosy nipple peeking from beneath the lace, but Tara stepped out of reach.

"Tit for tat baby."

It hadn't escaped Jax's notice that Tara had bumped into the end of the bed when she'd backed up. Girl was cornered now and she'd pay for her teasing, but he'd give her a little win first. He took his time stripping out of his denim. He wasn't about to pull any cheesy moves, but he didn't want her thinking he was over-excited either. His jeans soon joined hers in the pile of discarded clothing.

They stood facing each other, Jax in his white boxers, Tara in her black lace lingerie. He stepped up and hooked his arm around her waist, pressing his body firmly along hers. Now she was well trapped between his body and the foot of the bed. He grabbed her hand and pushed it between them and into his boxers, wrapping her fingers around his erect cock.

Her hand snugged firmly around his girth and stroked; he couldn't hold back a rough grunt. Nothing would ever compare to the touch of this woman, the feel of her. He'd had her, he'd lost her, he'd pined for her, and now she was really his, always. Sometimes, when things were hard between them, he let himself forget the empty hole his life had been without her. His heart swelled with recollection now. So did his cock.

With a saucy grin she asked, "Oh, baby. Is that for me?"

"You know it, babe. It's _all _for you. If you're a good girl, that is." He leaned down and kissed her, drawing her lush lower lip between his teeth for a taste. Still sucking her lip, he pulled her hand free from his cock and out of his boxers. Then he broke away from the kiss and winked down at her. "Time to play."

Her hand still firmly in his, he reached around her and snagged the restraints from the bed. "You ready for this, babe?"

Tara looked at the leather with avid trepidation. "But don't hurt me, right?"

There was something sweet and untested in her expression; it was the way she used to look, when they were young, before the life had taken such a toll on her, on them. She looked like the girl he'd fallen in love with. He loved her still, but there were times when the memory of the girl she'd been sustained him. Jax pulled his one true love close again and kissed her neck. "Never hurt you, babe. Only what you like."

She leaned into his kiss, her cheek on his. "Okay."

He kissed her cheek and turned her around, facing her away from him. He laid the leather bands on the edge of the bed; then gently, with just a whisper touch, he slid the straps of her bra over her shoulders until they hung lightly against her arms, held patiently at her sides. When he unhooked the clasps at the back, it fell loose. Tara gave her body a little shake and it dropped onto the carpet. He trailed his fingertips down her spine, causing her to shiver, before slipping his fingers into the band of her panties at her hips. Slowly, he eased them down, dropping to his knees as he did so, allowing his warm breath to follow the path recently set by his fingers. Tara stepped tentatively out of her underwear and Jax sent them spinning across the room with a quick flick of his wrist.

He rose to his feet and pushed her beautiful hair over her shoulder before pressing his lips to the perfect skin he'd uncovered. Then, gently, he wrapped the neck piece around her delicate throat and fastened it on her nape. A long strap lay down the length of her spine, with twinned sets of D-rings, occurring at regular intervals, and another single ring at the bottom. Jax reached for her left wrist and wrapped a cuff around it; then he did the same to her right. Each time he touched her, she jumped just slightly—barely a twitch, really—and gasped.

He ran his hands down the length of her arms to calm her. "Easy, babe. I got you."

This was their first time trying something like this. Tara was nervous, and he didn't want to hurt her, so he hooked the cuffs through the lowest ring. He kissed her shoulder, and she laughed nervously, a breathy little giggle.

She was bound, her hands fastened behind her back. She was his. He turned her to face him. "Now what am I going to do with you?"

He saw her pupils dilate as the realization hit her that in this position he could do whatever he damn well wanted to her and she would be powerless to stop him. The thought made his cock throb. The scratch of the material of his underwear was almost painful against the highly sensitized skin. It was all about priorities. As Tara watched he slipped out of his boxers, gratified by the small gasp that escaped her when she saw just how solid he was for her.

Moving quickly, aiming to shock her on purpose, as he straightened he caught her in his arms; one arm behind her knees, the other around her waist. With a lift and a jerk he lifted her and dropped her lightly on the bed. Her squeak of alarm hit him in his gut, somewhere that he wasn't sure he wanted to examine too deeply; but it sent an extra pulse of blood down south.

He reached across Tara's prone body to grab the cool lengths of metal and the baby wipes. He knelt up over her, his knees either side of her hips, looking down on her. Extracting a wipe from the pack he gave the rubber-tipped ends of the three tweezer-like attachments a careful once over before carelessly dropping the square of cloth over the edge of the bed. He wanted to capture her attention whilst he cleaned the toy. He wanted her to think about what he was about to do, to anticipate what she was about to feel at his hands.

He wrapped the cold cords around his hand a couple of times and then leant forward, leaning his weight on his palms on either side of her face. He was careful not to trap any of her luxurious hair. He leant forward, face-to-face with the love of his life, so close that they were sharing warm breaths. He kept his heavy-lidded gaze on her as licked across her lips. She opened under his caress, and he kissed her deeply, barely allowing her to breathe, pouring his heart and soul out into her. He was determined not to hurt her, but the strength of his reaction to her bound like this, helpless, under him, kindled a wildness in his core that he wasn't sure he could control.

Pulling back, leaving her gasping for oxygen, he began to move down her body. He'd meant to only trail teasing kisses, but something harder and darker was riding him now. He nipped the tender skin of her neck between his teeth. He licked a pointed tongue across her collar bone as if tasting her. He nibbled his way down to her breasts, using the weight of his body against her hips to keep her still.

He shuffled down a little until he was level enough with her breasts to take a nipple between his lips, sucking it hard. The position brought him some tenuous relief given that his cock was now pressed against the bed sheets instead of Tara's mound, but there was no such amnesty for his wife.

He was more forceful than he'd ever been with her before, but despite the small gasps that may have signaled some fear, she was moaning, muttering curses and writhing against him as much as she was able. He lavished attention on both nipples, nipping, sucking and blowing on them, until he was certain that they were painfully stiff; before continuing his journey down her body. Her clit received the same attention, but for a much shorter time. He wasn't going to allow her to come, not yet.

When he knelt back up, the thought crossed his mind that if he stayed still, just contemplating her as she lay there, that there was a damn good chance that he would explode without needing to be touched. He could see the edges of the soft leather chaffing ever so slightly at the delicate skin of her neck. She was squirming, trying to relieve the tension he'd built and resisting the hard knot of her hands bound at the base of her spine which forced her to arch up, presenting her whole body to him whether she liked it or not.

Jax reached down, and with a couple of quick tweaks to ensure her nipple was as swollen as possible, he positioned the first clamp and slid the small ring up the metal prongs until they pinched the stiff pink peak hard enough to make Tara curse.

He stopped and met her eyes, a silent question between them. After a moment, she nodded slightly, and Jax plucked at her other nipple, bringing it to a peak. He attached the other clamp and tightened it, making sure it was even with the first. Tara whimpered and squirmed but said nothing. She was panting, her exhales going out with a slight tremor. He leant down, his eyes still on hers, and flicked his tongue over one distended, blushing nipple. Tara jumped and cried out.

Jax sat back on his knees, straddling her, keeping his weight off her legs. "Too much, babe?" He hoped not. He was so hard and hot for her, lying trussed up under him, her breasts straining against the clamps. He didn't want to be done. He wasn't done. He wanted her to want the pain.

Her breath was heavy and uneven now, and she bit her lip as she stared into his eyes. Whatever she found in their depths, finally she said, "No. Not too much. Keep going."

He grinned. "You got it, babe." He drew the chain through his fingers, pulling gently on the clamps attached to her sweet nipples, distending them steadily further. She arched back, her eyes closed and her mouth open. When he had the clit clamp in his hands, he shifted and spread her legs wide, so that he could settle between them. Before he did anything else, he pressed his hand against her mound, caressing her, reveling in the soft silk of her most sensitive skin, marveling at the heavy wetness beginning to soak the sheet under her. He slid two fingers deep into her heat. She gasped as her hips rose from the bed. "Jax," she whispered, her voice low and sultry with want.

He held up the last clamp, lifting his eyebrows—one final check. This time, she smiled and nodded. She was acclimating to these new sensations and becoming less fearful. He slid the clamp around her clit, sliding the ring slowly, steadily, watching as the clamp tightened just below the hard bud of her most intense pleasure, making it swell. Then, when the clamp was secure, he bent down and flicked his tongue back and forth over that bud. Tara screamed and tried to roll to her side—he reached up and pushed her back to the bed, her arms trapped under her.

"Gotta stay put, babe. You good?"

Breathing heavily, each exhale a moan, Tara nodded. "It's intense," she gasped.

He bet it was. Hell, it was intense for him—he didn't know how much longer he could play with her without some relief for himself. "That's good, right?" She nodded energetically, and he chuckled. "Good girl. Damn, Tara, you're sexy like this."

"I want more—I want you." She licked her lower lip, dragging her teeth over it.

"You want me? You want this?" Jax grabbed his cock. Tara nodded, her eyes flaring.

He loomed over her, careful not to disturb any clamps, and kissed her, filling her mouth with his tongue the way he'd soon fill her core with his cock. As she became more aggressive, he pulled back and winked. "Not yet, babe. But soon."

Her whole body shook and had become a beautiful shade of pink, jittery and flushed with arousal. The power he felt over her was like an aphrodisiac. Jax felt wild. He scooted down and pressed his lips to each nipple in turn, making her twitch and squeak. He took small bites—not hard enough to bruise, but not gentle, either—of the skin over her ribs and belly as he worked his way lower, finally pausing at her clit and lightly, so lightly, licking the swollen bud like a tiny lollipop.

Tara squealed and tried to sit up and scissor her legs together, but Jax held her in place. "Fuck, Jax! It's too much!"

He let her go and rested back on his heels, between her legs. "You sure about that, babe?" He plucked the chain connecting all three clamps like a guitar string, and she cried out again.

"Fuck! No! Don't stop—just—just please make me come. No more teasing. Please, Jax. I need to come. I need it now."

He needed it, too. His cock felt enflamed. Leaving the clamps in place, he straightened his legs and loomed over his old lady. With one forceful stroke, he filled her wet, dark heat to the hilt.

Tara screamed, "Yes! Jax, yes!" Jax put his hand over her mouth—she was going to wake the boys. Losing the support of that hand brought his body down on top of hers. He could feel all three clamps moving on his chest and above his cock. Oh, shit.

Tara's eyes were wide and frenzied; she was whimpering against his palm, but he kept thrusting into her as hard and fast as he could. When he felt her legs wrap around him and clasp him snugly, he knew she was enjoying the weight and friction of his body on the clamps.

In all the years they'd been together, he would never have guessed that pain would make her so wild. In some way, it changed everything he knew about her.

Suddenly, she was screaming, really screaming against his palm, the muscles of her throat corded with effort. The muscles holding his cock flexed strenuously as she climaxed. At the peak of her release she bit his hand, and that, somehow, set him off to follow her. He snatched his hand away, shouting, "Jesus Christ!" as he exploded inside her. He thrust almost helplessly, overwhelmed by the intensity of his orgasm as Tara's body bowed beneath him, arching so violently that she almost threw him off.

He collapsed, panting against her neck. He was filled with the scent of her skin, leather and sex. Despite, or maybe because of, the all-consuming orgasm his cock twitched, still buried to the hilt in her body. Tara's body was pinned by his weight, but at the feel of him moving so suddenly deep within her it spasmed again as if trying to curl into itself.

Jax realized he was crushing Tara, even though she hadn't complained, and rolled onto his side. He chuckled breathlessly when he looked at his wife; seeing her eyes glazed over he realized she was dazed with passion and not quite back on Planet Earth yet. He ran his eyes over her body, taking time to appreciate the way her sweat-slickened skin gleamed in the low light of the room. He noticed that her nipples were darkening towards purple and moved swiftly to release the clamps. The sensation of blood flow returning to her nipples and clit seemed to bring Tara violently back to the land of the living again. Jax had barely moved back with the toy in his grasp when her body curled in on itself and she rolled onto her side with a guttural moan.

"Babe?" The clamps were dropped and forgotten as he quickly freed her from the leather restraints and took hold of her shoulder and tried to roll her back over.

"Gimme a minute." He barely heard her reply as she gasped it into the pillow.

"You hurtin' babe?" Jax was worried they'd taken the play too far.

Tara rolled somewhat stiffly onto her back, blinking at the ceiling. "That was… oh…" She took a deep breath. "I came again when you took them off. It was painful, but then… hhhhmmmmmm" She raised her arms over her head and stretched out like a cat enjoying a warm patch of sunshine; her face a pure expression of blissed-out satisfaction.

Jax chuckled. "Guess Tig's gonna have to wait a bit longer 'til he gets his shit back."

Tara didn't answer, she was still luxuriating in the afterglow; but her smile said it all.

"I'm gonna have to gag you if you're gonna turn into a biter though babe."

She cocked an eyebrow and Jax raised his palm to show her the rapidly bruising mark on his palm. When she didn't immediately disagree with the idea his cock, which had been in the process of relaxing, began to perk up again. Oh yeah, Tig was going to have to wait awhile to get his box of tricks back!

**Dedicated to the Freak Circle. We couldn't ask for a more amazing group of ladies to play on the Dark Side with. **


	2. Chapter 2

Seriously, it should be illegal to have this much fun! Much love to my partner in kinky crime, Laughing Warrior.

**_The mundane bit:_**

We own no part of Sons of Anarchy.

_Parental Advisory Warning:_ Contains activities of an adult nature, only to be performed between consenting adults.

**_The interesting bit: Chapter 2._**

It was late when Jax got home. He unclipped his helmet and pulled it off, running his gloved fingers through his hair and shaking it out a little to relax his scalp after the confines of the brain bucket. He sat astride his bike and stared at the front door.

It wasn't that he was afraid to enter his own house, far from it. That morning, things had been good between him and Tara. *More* than good. There hadn't been any silent stand offs over the cereal, no snippy comments over the coffee. It had been like it used to be, like it had been before she left, when they were still carefree kids. By the time she'd returned there had been tension between him and Clay, and there'd been Kohn, and then it had just been one fucking crisis after another; slowly getting worse and worse until it was just a permanent shit storm of crap over their heads with most of blame seeming to land at his feet.

That morning they had laughed and joked. There had been light but lingering touches, brief kisses that had only served to inflame rather than satisfy. There had been levity, and hope. However, now Jax was sat outside his house, wondering what he'd find when he went in. Would the magic have worn off? He was later than expected, Tara would probably be pissed; and last night and this morning would all be relegated to a gossamer dream.

With a heavy sigh he pulled himself off his ride and loped into the house. Given the late hour, knowing the boys would be in bed, he was especially careful to close the door quietly behind him. That damn film about the singing parrots was playing on the flat screen. It happened nearly every night; they'd put the kids to bed, come downstairs and be watching some fucking musical cartoon for half an hour before they even realised that they needed to change the channel.

He pulled off his gloves and cut and laid them on the back of the couch. He followed the sound of faint domestic noises into the kitchen, and found Tara at the sink washing the few dishes that had been dirtied by the boys' dinner. He could see that the oven was on and the aroma of something warm and meaty made his mouth water.

"Hey darlin'."

"Hey." Her voice was light as she half turned from the sink. He could see the smile almost hidden by that fall of beautiful hair. He suddenly felt about a foot taller, a weight had been lifted; his old lady was obviously still in a great mood.

The microwave dinged. He looked over and could just make out the shape of the steriliser inside. Deciding that the best way to ensure Tara's continued good mood, and therefore willing participation in any nocturnal activities, would be to show a little usefulness; he went to pull the steriliser out so that he could empty it and put Thomas' bottles away.

He was concentrating on trying not to handle the hot plastic for too long as he juggled it onto the counter top, so it actually came as a surprise to him when he removed the lid, being careful to avoid the escaping steam, and found himself presented with a colourful array of the toys from Tig's box. There were at least three dildos of varying sizes and ... designs and a couple of other items of the bright and plastic variety.

Without turning Tara said, "I've already washed the other... pieces. I thought everything in that box could probably do with more than a once over with a baby wipe. And not just 'cause it's been down in that nasty cellar for who knows how long."

"Good thinkin' babe." Jax was still a little dumbstruck at the rainbow of perversity sat in the space usually occupied by his youngest son's feeding bottles. When he took a proper look at the drainer, he could see several of the metal items from the box laid around the crockery. The sight of the clamps they'd played with the night before brought his blood rushing to all sorts of good places.

"Won't Tig miss this stuff?" Tara finished washing the last plate and set it in the drying rack.

Jax was thrilled. Not only had Tara enjoyed their escapades the previous night beyond all his expectations, but here she was actively preparing for more of the same and worrying that she might be denied the chance to continue playing.

"Nah, I sent him out for a few days on business. We've got at least 'til the end of the week before he'll even be around to ask. You wanna play some more?"

She turned and leaned back against the sink, drying her hands on a yellow tea towel. "I do." She gestured around the room. "There's a lot of stuff to try out."

Grinning cockily, Jax ambled over to her and hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of her low-slung jeans. "There is. You want to pick something out again?"

"Can I tie you up?" She looked shy. She'd been like that last night, too. He found it endearing and unbelievably sexy.

But he'd been in cuffs too many times. He couldn't imagine ever asking to be tied up or ever finding it hot. He didn't let his grin falter, though—he didn't want to discourage her interest in the toys, just reorient it. "No, babe. Not that. But you seemed to like it just fine. There's other things like that we could try on you."

At first, she was quiet, as if she were considering the options. Then, with a saucy smile, she said, "It was pretty hot."

"Yeah, it was. I loved having you all bound up like that. You were beautiful. And damn, you came so hard."

She nodded. "Okay. But I get to pick everything."

Oh, God bless Tig and his freaky ways. "You bet. Whatever you want."

She wandered around the room for awhile, looking for all the world as if she were browsing for just the right pair of shoes. Shoes. Huh. That got Jax thinking that maybe he'd try to sneak out to the mall in the next few days, maybe pick up something for Tara to wear when they played. Distracted by those happy thoughts, he was surprised to refocus and see that she had picked up the spreader bar and the bondage tape, and now she was examining the array of whips and floggers.

Jesus Christ, his old lady was a kinky little pain freak! He shifted uncomfortably as his cock, which had been feeling heavy since he'd found the dildos in the microwave, surged to full heft and bound up in his boxers.

When she walked to him with a secret smirk, she had the spreader, the tape, something that looked like a feather duster, a large flogger with red suede tails, and a smaller flogger with rubber tails.

"Damn, Tara. You sure?" Jax was dumbfounded. Tig's box had unlocked a side of his old lady he'd never seen before. He would have laughed if anyone had ever suggested that Tara had any inclination beyond utterly normal sex. He would have sworn that oral was as kinky as she'd ever get. He had known her and loved her for half his life, but the woman standing in front of him now, her arms overloaded with bondage toys she'd chosen to be used on her, had depths he'd never suspected. His eye caught the open-mouth gag on the dish rack, and he felt a new hopefulness.

In response to his query, she shrugged. "You'll stop if I don't like it, right?"

"Of course, babe." He'd do nothing that could jeopardize this thing that was happening between them. Aside from being hot as all hell, it was bringing them back together, rebuilding trust they'd been losing. He owed Tig a beer. Two, even.

"Okay, then. Tie me up and flog me."

He tossed his head back and laughed. "Your wish is my command, babe. Hold on to your loot." Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her down the hall to their bedroom.

Tara's obvious effort to muffle her squeal of surprise as he swooped her up made Jax smile broadly and his smile only widened as he tossed his wife onto their bed. Seeing her lay there, limbs akimbo, surrounded by the toys she'd picked out, made him feel like a god. He stepped towards the bed intending to take what was his but Tara stopped him with a raised hand.

"Baby, the door"

"Shit." He muttered as he turned to make sure that the door was securely bolted.

When he turned back he found Tara still on the bed, but pulling her cotton t-shirt over her head. Her eagerness made his cock twitch. He started shrugging out of his own clothes as he approached the bed. By the time he reached her they were both clad only in their denim. He knelt on the bed and crawled up to her. He placed a palm on the centre of her chest and pushed lightly. Tara did as she was bid and lay back, her head cushioned on the pillows.

Jax held himself over her for several heartbeats, palms either side of her head, elbows slightly flexed so that he was above her without lying on her. He savoured the feel of her body heat, almost palpable against his skin. He gently touched his nose to hers, before dropping a feather-light kiss on her lips.

As Tara started to respond, pressing her lips more forcefully against his, Jax smirked and held himself away from her, before beginning to move down her body, trailing kisses in his wake. First the slender column of her neck, then the delicate ridge of her collar bone. Next, the gentle swell of her right breast; he ignored the budding, pink nipple, working his way over the soft underside and down her rib cage. He continued over her stomach, kissing each stretch mark that she'd earned carrying Thomas. He knelt back and unsnapped Tara's jeans. She gave a helpful wiggle as he pulled at them and raised her hips off the bed so that he could slide them down over her hips. Once he'd managed to pull them off her he dropped them over the side of the bed.

He covered her again, but this time his focus wasn't on her face. He leant down over her blue cotton panties. As he kissed her through the thin material, she rolled her hips. It was an indecisive move, neither serving to get away from him or to push closer to him. Either way, he locked his palms over her hips to hold her still, and lowered his face again.

He began with small, but firm kisses, but before long he set gently set his teeth to her, gently biting at her sensitive flesh through the flimsy covering. Tara was fighting his grip, squirming beneath him. Jax pulled back only slightly, hooked his thumbs under the elastic at the side of her panties and pulled them down and off her. Before Tara could make a move to sit up he was back on her, his face buried in her hot core.

He had to hold her still again as he teased her with his lips and tongue. She tangled her fingers into his hair and as he worked her slick flesh she began to pull his face closer. That would not do. Jax wanted this on his terms. Sure he wanted Tara to feel comfortable, he wanted her to enjoy this, he wanted her to crave it; but she would not be the one in control of it.

He knelt back up again and cast a glance over the toys still strewn over the covers before his eyes found the roll of bondage tape. Tara lay prone before him, waiting for his next move. He didn't need to say anything; these items had been her choices after all. He gently lifted her hands, one at a time, and placed them onto her stomach, pulling them lightly to straighten her arms out. Once he had her limbs arranged so that her arms were crossed at the wrist he turned back to the tape. After finding the end of the roll he pulled a length out. The ripping sound of the adhesive seemed monumentally loud in the silence of the bedroom that was interrupted only by their own heavy breathing.

Jax carefully wound the tape around Tara's wrists, making sure that it wasn't too tight. The last thing he wanted was to have to pause the game because she was losing circulation to her hands; but neither did he want her to be able to pull free. Once she was firmly secured he took a moment to let the sight of her absorb into his brain. The view of his lady bound and awaiting his pleasure was definitely one to store away for future reference.

He trailed one finger tip down the centre of her chest to the juncture of her bound arms. "Time to turn over baby."

As Tara wiggled to turn herself over Jax moved forward to pull the pillows off the bed. He wanted her to have room to breath rather than have her face buried in mounds of cotton covered down. He was about to toss them onto the carpet when inspiration hit. Most of them hit the floor, but he pulled two back with him. Once Tara was settled on her stomach he slid one forearm under her hips and lifted her, pushing the pillows into place with his other hand.

He slipped off the bed, his swollen cock chafing in the confines of his underwear and jeans. Tara couldn't see the dark half-smile as he picked up the spreader bar and moved to her feet. Without speaking he fastened the cuffs around her ankles, taking time to appreciate the thick, dark leather encasing her delicate porcelain skin. Whilst he was working he realised the bar was adjustable. It had been set at around two feet, probably so that it could be stored in the box, but Jax realised it could almost double in length. Once Tara was secured, he altered the bar to force her legs further apart. He stepped back to admire the sight before him.

He smoothed a hand over her back, following the dip of her spine, down and over one perfect, pale globe and down the back of one thigh. He paused to caress the sensitive skin behind the knee before moving north again. He stroked the inside of her thigh, watching her writhe against the bed, enable to escape him. When he reached her cleft he ran two fingers along it. He almost groaned when he found her slick and ready. He plunged both fingers into her in one sudden movement and let the darkness take him.

She cried out and flinched at the sudden, rough intrusion of his calloused fingers into her core. Exhilarated by the sight of her prone, bound and spread for his pleasure, he pulled his fingers out and plunged deeply again. Again she cried out, this time pushing back against his hand bringing him even deeper. His cock pulsed hard, protesting its fabric constraint. He removed his fingers and put them into his mouth, sucking them clean of her juices.

He shed his jeans and boxers, and his cock sprung proudly free. Then he stood at the side of the bed and once again revelled in the sight of his wife. She was so beautiful to him. The fullness her figure had gained since Thomas had made her softer and sexier. He smoothed his hands over the soft skin of her rounded ass, lifted alluringly by the pillows under her hips.

Tara opened her eyes and looked at him. "Jax, please." She turned her eyes to the assortment of floggers still on the bed.

Jax suddenly wished she'd chosen one of the blindfolds as well. He'd like to be able to surprise her with what he was about to do. He thought of a way he could come close. "Turn your head the other way, babe."

Instead, she lifted her head and looked at him more fully. "Why?"

"No questions. Do what I say."

She paused for a beat, then she did as he said. His cock bounced at the thrill of her obedience. She had given over control to him completely. "Close your eyes." She did. His heartbeat changed gears.

He took a moment to consider the flogging options: feathers, suede, and rubber. It seemed that Tara had chosen carefully, especially for a novice. Jax wasn't experienced in this kind of sex play, either, but he knew more about giving pain than Tara did, if only from occasionally watching Happy and Tig work. She'd chosen three materials that would access very different sensory receptors.

With two thoughts, he picked up the suede flogger first. His first thought was that she would probably expect him to start with the feathers, and he wanted to surprise her. He also thought the feathers could be more interesting when she was more sensitive. His second thought was all visceral. The red suede was beautiful, with long tails and a velvet handle. He simply wanted to make it dance on her skin.

He picked it up and felt its surprising heft. Once again, with his free hand, he caressed the swells of her ass until she squirmed. Then he stood straight and brought the flogger down across her ass. He pulled his stroke at the last minute, uncertain of her reaction.

She gasped and flinched. The gasp ended with a sultry little moan, and she raised her ass up off the pillows as if she were seeking more sensation. Her ass remained unmarked. That wouldn't do. He brought the flogger down again, more firmly this time, without pulling at the last minute. This time, she cried out, and her whole body tensed as if she'd been shocked. When the tails slid away from her ass, she had a cluster of faint pink lines.

"Okay, babe?" It was difficult even to ask, because he didn't want any answer other than yes. But if he pushed it and she wasn't okay, she might never agree to play again. He needed her to want what they were doing.

She didn't answer right away. Jax noticed that she hadn't turned her head back, either. She was still obeying him. After a pause long enough to cause him worry, she said, "Yeah. Keep going." Her voice was a little muffled because she was turned away from him, lying on the bed with her arms bound over her head, but he heard her clearly.

"You like it?"

"I—I think so."

He struck her twice in quick succession, once on her back and once on her thighs, making her squeal and moan. Then, while she was still writhing from those blows, he struck her two more times. He'd struck her six times in all; he thought ten would do to start. Now she was panting, trying to draw her knees under her, but the spreader bar was impeding her movements.

Entranced by the pattern emerging on her porcelain skin and by the way her body now could not be still, he struck her again, two blows, across her ass, still enflamed from his previous strikes there.

Now Tara shrieked and came up on her elbows, her eyes still squeezed shut. "Jax, baby, please," she gasped. She was writhing and flexing—no, she was _grinding_, her hips going at a frenetic clip. Jesus, she was humping the pillows. He put his hand on her rosy ass and held her down. She moaned loudly in protest.

"You need something, babe?"

"I'm so close, I'm so close. Oh, God, Jax."

He wasn't ready for this play to be done, but he had no qualms about making her come repeatedly tonight. He just wanted to make sure it was on his terms. He pushed the hand on her ass down between her legs and ground roughly on her clit. She began her climax within seconds. Just as he judged her to be reaching her peak, he struck the final two blows with the suede flogger, across her lower back.

She arched backwards in a beautiful bow and held there, her body perfectly, thoroughly tensed. She made no sound, until she relaxed back to the bed in a flop. Then she started to cry.

Dammit. Had he misjudged her pleasure? Had he really hurt her? He hoped not; he had plans for the other floggers, and for his own cock. "Tara? Babe?"

She answered through her tears. "No—no. It's—it's good. It's good."

Jax felt a small tremor of apprehension shiver through him, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the thrill of her potent reaction and the level of obvious power that he had over her. It was a tsunami of dominance that he just couldn't control, that really, viscerally, he didn't wish to.

Women had always been subservient in the club, at least on the face of things. Behind closed doors it was usually a different matter. Tara, however, had always seemed slightly apart from the club. She'd never immersed herself in The Life the way that his mother had. She was close to being on top of the pyramid of her own field. As a surgeon she held the power of life or death over the tiny little bodies that she operated on. Other cardiac specialists couldn't do what she did on such a small scale. She was courted by hospitals across the country.

Sometimes he didn't know how she did it, how she kept her head down when she was around the club, how she played the part; but he guessed that was why she didn't spend a lot of time around the club. Most of the time she was there, it was rarely of her own preference, it was usually because she had been called in for her medical expertise. Being there in that capacity allowed her some measure of status above and beyond just being the President's Old Lady. She had knowledge and skill that had to be deferred to. Perhaps it was easier to pretend if she didn't have to put the mask on too many times.

Here, now, he was certain of her place. It was under him; doing his bidding, whether she liked it or not. But that wasn't quite enough. He wanted _her_ to _want_ this. He wanted to make her writhe and gasp. He wanted to make her forget everything else. He wanted to make her beg.

He picked up the feather duster and stroked the fluffy plumes over his palm. It was soft, like a whispered breath. He looked down on Tara, still bound at his knees, and felt his cock twitch in anticipation. Goddamnit he was determined to last until he'd had the opportunity to play with her some more.

Her ass was a stunning shade of rosy pink. He'd landed most of the blows on her cheeks, which were uniformly glowing, but here and there, lines of pink stretched out across her skin. He was going to start stroking the duster down the side of her face. He wanted to follow the line of her cheekbone with it, but at the last minute he changed his mind. He realised that her earlier tears were still wet on her skin and that they would ruin the feathers.

He decided to start his teasing elsewhere. He started instead at her finger tips. He drew the duster down, slowly, lightly over her arms and across her shoulders. Instead of taking the direct route along her spine, he tickled down under Tara's arm, brushing the side of her breast that was only just visible. The touch of the duster, almost a fairy kiss, still caused Tara to jerk in response before Jax continued his journey down her body.

Eventually he reached the flaming cheeks of her ass. He barely grazed the sensitive skin with the very tips of the feathers. Her skin twitched as if every nerve danced independently. Her breath was coming in tiny, shaky gasps. He lingered over her rosy, almost glowing cheeks until she started to whimper. Then he swirled the duster lightly down one leg, pausing to tease the skin behind her knee and then again at the sole of her foot, and then back up the other. When he got back to her ass, he lifted the duster and watched. Her whole body continued to twitch and flex. She was as stimulated as he'd ever seen her.

He took another languid pass over her body with the feather duster, tracing the same path as before. By the time he was done, she was jerking so hard the metal rings connected the spreader bar to its cuffs were rattling loudly. The pinking of her skin had faded by then noticeably, from the bright, almost shiny rose to a softer, paler pink, like the inside of a shell. He thought she could take some more.

"How you doin', babe?" She didn't speak; she only nodded. She had kept her eyes closed and her head turned away, as he'd told her to.

That was the most striking, possibly the sexiest thing about what they were doing. She'd let him bind her, yes—she'd asked him to, in fact. But now that she was bound, he was truly in control of her body, whether she wanted him to be or not. The fact that she was keeping her eyes closed, though—that she was doing entirely by choice. She was not blindfolded. She hadn't simply allowed it. She was making a constant, conscious choice to obey.

He wanted so badly to fuck her he was sorely pressed to keep on with the game. But she'd chosen one more flogger, and he wanted to give her every experience she'd selected. He put the feather duster aside and picked up the rubber flog.

This one scared him a little. He ran his hands through the tails. They were shorter than the suede flogger, and they were more densely packed. The rubber had some give to it, too. He would need to be careful.

His eyes raked over Tara's body. Only a couple of seconds had passed since he'd asked her how she was doing, and her body was still tensely twitching from the stimulation of the feathers on her body. Now he gave the rubber flogger a practice swing in the air, gauging its weight and speed as he flicked it. And then he struck Tara across the firm round meat of her ass.

She screamed, catching it in the back of her throat a half-second too late. As he lifted the flogger, he saw that it had left bright red lines in its wake. He struck her again, and she screamed again, this time through gritted teeth.

"Do you want me to stop, babe?"

Again she didn't speak; she shook her head.

"You want me to keep going?"

She nodded.

"Okay, babe. New rule, though: you can't make any noise." He actually loved the sounds she made during sex—and during these times with Tig's toys, she made lots of sexy sounds, even talking. He loved it. But he was curious to see whether she would—or could—be completely quiet, again of her own volition.

He struck her again, this time across her thighs. She jerked hard, but made no sound. Three blows. This flogger was much more intense, he could see, so he thought five blows would be enough for this first time. Her skin had again taken on that shiny, bright rose sheen. He wanted this to be nothing but pleasant for her.

His cock was aching for her. It seemed like they'd been at this forever, and he was nearly as aroused as she was, but she'd already come. He thought back on that, on the intensity of her orgasm as he'd fucked her with his hand and flogged her at the same time. That had worked beautifully.

When he'd cuffed her to it, he'd adjusted the spreader bar so that Tara's legs were almost at maximum stretch. There was, then, plenty of room for him to kneel inside the triangle created by her body and the bar. He did so now. Without warning her what he planned, setting the rubber flogger on the bed next to him, he grabbed her hip in one hand and positioned himself with the other. Holding her firmly, he pushed into her, filling her full in one solid stroke. She took in a huge breath—she started to gasp audibly but cut it off, remembering that he'd told her to be silent. Fuck, that was a rush.

"Oh, babe you're so fucking wet." He'd denied himself long enough; he wasn't even sure he _could_ wait any longer. Tara had offered herself to him as an object to be dominated, and he could think of no more potent aphrodisiac than his wife bound under him, submitting completely to his will. He started to move inside her, taking long, hard, demanding thrusts. Every time he hit home, her bound hands curled into fists, but she stayed silent. He sped up, feeling his control finally waning, needing a release of his own.

Even as his ecstasy approached, he made sure to watch her carefully, looking for signals in her body and face that he could not get from sound this time. When she looked like her throes were nearly upon her, still thrusting into her, feeling the pressure of his orgasm at the base of his balls, he picked up the rubber flogger and struck her twice across the back.

She went completely rigid, her inner muscles clamping down so hard on him it almost hurt. He held on, thrusting into her until she began to relax. Then he dropped the flogger, grabbed her by her hips and pummelled her until, at last, he erupted inside her with a long, tense groan.

He dropped onto her back and lay there for a minute, feeling the heat of her skin where the blood had rushed to it. When he had his breath, he slid off and rolled her over, pushing the pillows off the bed as he did so. He lay over her again so that he could kiss her deeply, appreciatively, his hand on her cheek. "I love you, babe."

Now she opened her eyes and looked into his. She was still bound, but she smiled at him and brought her arms down over his head, her wrists wrapped behind him. "I love you, too. Thank you."

He knew she'd enjoyed herself, or at least she'd been able to come. But to have her thank him for flogging her? This was new territory—and he wanted to explore a lot more. "Any time, babe. Any time."


	3. Chapter 3

As always, much love to my partner in kinky crime, Laughing Warrior.

_**The mundane bit:**_

We own no part of Sons of Anarchy.

_Parental Advisory Warning:_ Contains activities of an adult nature, only to be performed between consenting adults.

_**The interesting bit: Chapter 3.**_

"Jax, I... I... I need to tell you something."

At Tara's stutter Jax felt his heart rate speed up and his balls tighten. This didn't sound good. Fuck! Was she pregnant? Was she leaving? Fuck! Who knew what could come out of her mouth next. He placed his sandwich down carefully on top of the wrapper spread on her desk as a makeshift cloth. He should have known something was up when she'd invited him to join her for lunch in her office at the hospital; but at the time he'd just been pleased with the opportunity to spend some quiet time with her. Not willing to let her see his nervousness he kept his voice even.

"Go on babe."

"I... I... Shit! I don't know how to say this."

Jax could hardly speak past the cold knot of dread in his stomach that made it hard to even draw breath. Damn, he was about ready to vomit.

Tara took a deep breath. He could actually see her change tack. He hoped she wasn't going to try and change the subject, he wouldn't let her.

"You remember, when I sent to see Otto with that perfume that time?"

OK, that wasn't the subject he was expecting. "Yeah." He said quietly and leaned back in his chair.

"He... I... He..."

Now his mind was back in the bad place. "He what?"

"He wanted me to put some on my wrist so he could smell it."

That didn't sound so bad, it seemed like a pretty reasonable request. Jax wasn't sure why Otto couldn't just have huffed it straight out of the bottle, but the guy had been inside a long time, he could be excused a couple of eccentricities. "OK babe, so what's the problem?"

"The next time I went to see him I still had it. He... he... asked me to uncuff one of his hands. It wasn't the day he stabbed the nurse."

Oh shit! God forbid the DA should get a hold of this info. The guy that had once been a brother, almost a father, had brutally stabbed a nurse with his dead wife's crucifix, plunged it into the nurse's neck over and over until her throat was so much raw meat. If anyone found out that it had actually been the second time Tara had uncuffed Otto, they'd be in a world of shit.

"Go on."

"He promised he wouldn't hurt me. Asked me to come to him and hold his head."

Jax snapped back from mentally running over ways to untangle this new knot of trouble. His mind went straight back to the dark place.

"Then his hand, started...moving. I saw his scrubs. Moving." Tara was speaking in a breathless rush. "Said he just wanted to feel a woman's hand on him one more time."

As the red mist began to descend over his vision Jax realised that Tara had invited him here to tell him this, probably in the mistaken belief that he would want to avoid any sort of scene, that it might lessen his reaction to be in a fairly public environment. She had been dead wrong.

"No, not there." Tara was shaking her head frantically, looking a little wide-eyed and desperate. "He just wanted me to stay with my hand on his head. It didn't take him long. Fuck Jax! He cried afterwards. Sobbed like a child. It wasn't like you're thinking."

"Wasn't like I'm thinking?" Jax voice was low and deadly. Tell me Tara, what am I fucking thinking? You were supposed to get him to recant RICO, not jack him off."

"I didn't jack him off! That's what I'm trying to tell you! I know it was weird—it felt weird at the time—but all I did was touch his head. I promise. It was nothing—nothing! I promise!"

There was more here, he could feel it. The spiking panic he felt earlier had shifted into a low-boiling rage. "If it was nothing, then why are you telling me? Why did you wait to tell me here, and why do you look so fucking guilty? What _aren't_ you telling me, Tara?"

She did look really guilty, and scared, too. She was breathing heavily, her breasts rising erratically. He hated her guilt; it enraged him. But there was something about her anxiety he found . . . compelling. She knew she had done something wrong, something which would anger him. She feared him. His power. His strength. What he could do to her. He would never hurt her—no more than she wanted—and yet his cock twitched and his balls pulsed at the thought that she knew he could.

He stood up and put his hands on the desk to loom over her. "Tell me, Tara. Tell me now. Don't make me ask again."

She looked up into his eyes, trying to convince him. "There's nothing. Really. It's just—" She stopped and looked down. He walked around to her side of the desk and swung her chair around to face him. They were in her office at the hospital, the locus of her strength and power. Where she held life in her hands almost every day. The thought of dominating her here, where she was strongest, sent an electric charge through his blood.

His hands braced on the arms of her chair, he leaned in until his face was only inches from hers. He could feel her fretful breath on his face. "Do _not_ make me ask again."

"It turned me on! It was weird and a little scary. It was sad, too. But it turned me on! And it still turns me on. I think about it a lot. I'm sorry, Jax. I didn't do anything but touch his head, I swear, but I feel like I cheated because it turned me on so much."

Jax stepped back, stunned. "I feel like you cheated, too, Tara." He did. The thought of Otto turning her on infuriated him. The thought that his old lady's touch, wherever it was, got somebody else off made him crazy. He wanted to kill the bastard. His hands curled into fists.

"Jax, I'm sorry. Please, baby. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I will." Her fear was increasing; he could almost smell it on her.

"How do you think you can make it up to me, Tara? What do you think will do that?"

Something shifted in her eyes. He still saw fear there, but now there was something else. Something . . . hungry. And not for lunch. "What do _you_ think will do it?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

With that question, Tara introduced a new dimension to her confession. Since they'd started playing with Tig's box of toys, he'd learned that she got off on pain, and she enjoyed being bound and constrained. But did she want to be _disciplined_? Jesus Christ. The thought made a coil of heat low in his belly. He walked to the door and locked it.

He hadn't even turned around before his cock was as solid as rock behind his denim. The thought of Tara, his wife, waiting for him to punish her, wanting him to punish her, made the blood surge through his veins.

The thought of what she'd done with Otto though was like cold ice in his brain, freezing a portion of his head somewhere behind his eyes. His wife had cheated on him. The love of his life had been disloyal beyond words. All the hurt and betrayal, the crushing sense of abandonment, that he'd felt when she'd left Charming after high school came rushing back. He needed to release all that. They'd never really talked about it. He'd never told her just how close she'd come to breaking him. They'd built a life from the ashes and moved on; but now the wound was open and gushing blood.

He appraised his wife as he walked towards her. She was wearing green scrubs. She'd been supervising a surgery this morning, assisting in small ways, all part of the rehab for her hand. Her white coat was in its place on the hook behind the door. The soft cast that she still wore for most of the day was lying limply on the desk. He'd noticed that she'd been wearing it less and less each day, especially at home.

He knew what was under those scrubs. He'd seen the deep blue lace as she'd slipped into it that morning. Something about the dark, intense colour made her pale skin glow. He'd watched, trying to hide how dumbstruck he was as she'd pulled her bra into place. He'd wanted to take hold of her and kiss those beautiful breasts, the ones that he could now almost see quivering with every breath she took. The more he'd watched, the more his thoughts had turned from just kissing that perfect skin, to marking it. As his mind had twisted around the thought of leaving a perfect imprint of his teeth just above the delicate cup, he'd decided to retreat to the kitchen and get coffee before neither of them made it out of the house.

"Stand up." His kept his voice low but firm, he didn't want anyone interrupting them to find out what any fuss was about.

Tara complied immediately, pushing her large chair smoothly away as she did so. She watched him without turning as he walked behind her until he stood on her left.

"Take this off." He tugged at the hem of the green top.

Her eyes widened slightly. She paused, looking like she was thinking about arguing, and then did as he commanded. She tossed the thin garment onto her chair. He took a moment to run his eyes over her. Damn, but she looked as good as he'd remembered from this morning. White, almost translucent skin, stained with the flush of arousal and fear. The colour of the lingerie brought out the thick blue veins beneath her skin, making it look even more fragile. He saw her body twist, almost unconsciously, in his direction. No! This was his show.

"Bend over."

Her jaw actually dropped a little at his order, but she did so, bracing herself on her desk, her palms flat on the blotter that covered the imitation wood veneer. Jax moved behind her, pulling her hips gently, until he had her positioned just as he wanted her, her legs slightly apart, her upper body almost parallel with the desk.

He reached around her and loosened the drawstring tie at the front of her pants. He took half a step back, and then hooked his fingers into the waistband, pulling them slowly down over the globes of her ass. He let them rest just underneath those perfect cheeks, framed by the deep blue lace of the thong. His cock jerked in his boxers, desperate to get a piece of the action. Tara wasn't the only one who would have to wait until he was done with his retribution.

He shrugged out of his cut and hoodie, folded them, and laid them over the discarded upper half of Tara's scrubs. He was down to the white t-shirt he habitually wore; he wanted the freedom of movement. He raised his hand level with his chest, thought about it, then raised it more, slightly further than his shoulder. He brought his open palm down hard on Tara's ass with a resounding smack.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh seemed to echo around the small room, silent except for their panted breaths. He struck her once, twice, three times, and she made no sound, only flinching lightly, as she would if he'd been tickling her. So on the fourth strike, he raised his hand farther and came in harder, landing right at the spot on her right cheek that had turned the brightest shade of pink. His palm stung with the force of the blow. That time, Tara gasped audibly and flexed her hips under a bit, as if to avoid the next blow. "Jax—"

"What, Tara? What do you want? Cheating, running, heartbreaking little bitch. Always leaving me behind, taking what's mine. What do you think you deserve?" He hit her again, on the left cheek this time. She moaned.

"More." She was beginning to sweat; Jax saw the skin on her back shimmering lightly.

"More? You want more?"

She looked over her shoulder at him. "I want to make it up to you. All of it. I want what you need to give me to forgive me."

"Might be a lot."

"I can take it. I want it." Jax's anger at her betrayals—leaving him when they were young, always threatening to take his kids and leave now, getting Otto off—was all bound up with his desire—seeing her bent over her desk, panting, glistening with sweat, in beautiful, sexy underwear, her ass bright red from the stinging heat of his hand—and his love for her—his constant, consuming, enduring need to treasure her. The conflicting emotions blended into a passionate alchemy in his head and heart and body and added pop to his swing. He hit her again. And again. And again.

Every time he struck her, she flinched a little more vigorously, her back arching, and she cried out a little more loudly. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd struck her when she yelled "Oh, God! Oh, God!" and her left arm went flailing wildly, sending a stack of folders and a pewter picture frame holding family photos off the desk. Jax watched as her hips flexed in a steady pulse. She'd just come. He'd never touched her anywhere but her ass, which was a glowing, almost iridescent shade of red. His hand was numb from the sting of his skin on hers.

Jesus Christ, that was sexy. Jax's cock throbbed so hard it made his stomach hurt.

He leaned over and grabbed her hair, pulling her up a few inches to his face. "I'm not done with you." She was still breathless and dazed, lost in the hazy aftermath of what seemed to be an intense climax. He flipped her over and pushed her up onto the desk. He spread her legs wide. Then, without fully considering what he was doing, he struck her between her legs.

Tara cried out and raised her head to look at him. "What are you—?" She didn't finish the question. Jax met her look but didn't answer. They regarded each other for several seconds; Tara seemed to be considering what they were doing. Jax waited. He would stop if she asked him to. Even now, still angry—though less than he had been—he had no wish to hurt her, not in a way she didn't want.

After a few seconds' consideration, Tara lay her head back on the desk. Jax struck her again. She was so. Damn. Wet. He could feel it through the silk of her thong. He hit her again, his fingers against her clit. She arched—and kicked her scrubs down to her ankles so that she could put her feet on the desk and open her spread legs to him even more.

He positioned himself in between her bent knees and raised his hand again. He brought it down hard on her pussy. He knew she couldn't be feeling all of it, she was still wearing her thong; but her back still arched off the desk. Her fingers were wrapped around the edge of the desk, her knuckles were white.

By the fifth stroke they were both panting. Tara was staring avidly at the polystyrene tiles that covered the ceiling of her office. Jax was staring at his wife, laid out before him, awaiting punishment. He couldn't wait any longer. He unzipped his jeans, barely lowering denim and cotton below his balls; just enough to allow his cock the room to spring free.

Roughly, he grabbed the sides of her underwear in both hands; he heard the soft tearing of the material as the thin sides ripped free of her hips. He flung it impatiently across the room; and then he was inside her in one sharp move. Tara had obviously been expecting another slap because her head rose from the desk until she could meet his eyes. Jax grabbed her hips, hard. He knew she would be bruised the next day, but he pulled her hard onto his cock as he thrust into her anyway. He knew, too, that the angle would be verging on painful with her this open to him, but he didn't care; it was all part of the punishment.

He tugged her onto each rigid stroke. Although her head dropped back, she struggled to keep his gaze; he met her eyes. He wanted her to know that it was her husband that was fucking her, that it was her husband who was filling her pussy. She was arching off the desk, that lovely hair falling around her shoulders. And still he fucked her, hard, brutally, methodically.

The only sound in the small room now besides their harsh breathing was the wet slap of flesh against flesh. Then her felt her, felt her body tighten, pushing almost entirely off the desk. He relinquished the hold of one hand on her hip so that he could cover her mouth. When she came, and fuck did she come hard, she bit his palm just as she had the first time; the first time they'd opened that Pandora's Box of toys. The pain in his hand set him off and Jax followed her, pumping hard, filling her. He buried his own muffled shout in his own shoulder.

He pulled out quickly and began to tucking himself back into his clothes. This had been beyond what he'd expected, but it wasn't the time for tenderness or cuddles. This had been a punishment fuck, pure and simple.

Tara slid off the desk and to her feet. Pulling his cut onto his shoulders, Jax watched her bend to pull the pants of her scrubs over her ass, now bare and still bright red. She tightened the drawstring, and then she looked up at him, catching her hair back to clip it into place as she did so. He returned her look, and Tara dropped her hands. They held each other's eyes. Then he turned and walked out of her office without saying a word. There were no words he could say.


	4. Chapter 4

Laughing Warrior and I humbly present our latest offering of kinky smut. Huge "thank you's" and sloppy kisses to everyone who's reading our little experiment.

_**The mundane bit:**_

We own no part of Sons of Anarchy.

_Parental Advisory Warning:_ Contains activities of an adult nature, only to be performed between consenting adults.

A/N: This chap is fluffier than Ch3, well, we both thought so...

_**The interesting bit: Chapter 4.**_

Tara went up to the door, feeling nervous and uncomfortable. Before she knocked, she appraised her surroundings a bit. She was standing on a wide plank porch, painted grey. Whitewashed railing around it, pristine white porch swing. Big urns full of red geraniums.

Next to the door, a small statue of a duck, wearing a yellow rain slicker and hat.

Tara wasn't sure why she was here. No, she knew—Elaine, one of the nurses in the PICU, was getting married next week, and Tara was here at the maid of honor's house for a bridal shower. It had been a long time since she'd socialized away from the club, and she felt rusty.

She shifted the toaster oven she'd wrapped in silver paper with a big white bow and rang the bell. It chimed sonorously. Then a bright, blonde woman she didn't recognize opened the door with a high wattage smile. "Hi! I'm Melanie! You're obviously here for Elaine. Come on in!"

Tara smiled and stepped over the threshold. Her new buddy Melanie took the package from her. "Here. I'll just put this over on the table with the others and you can go right in. I'm sorry, I didn't ask _your_ name."

Tara gave her a cordial smile. "Tara. Tara Knowles-Teller."

Something Tara couldn't quite identify passed over Melanie's face before she answered, "Oh, yes! You work with Elaine. That's great. I'm so glad you joined us." She gestured toward a hallway; Tara could see an island at the end—the kitchen. "Everybody's in the hearth room, just down there."

Not sure what a hearth room was, Tara nodded. "Thank you." She went down the hall.

The house was what she expected after appraising the front porch. Everything matched, everywhere. All in pastels: blue, rose, and cream. Dried flower swags on the walls. Granite counters and stainless steel appliances in the kitchen—and ah, _that_ was a hearth room.

Across from the kitchen was a large room, dominated by a stone fireplace on the outside wall. Two blue and cream plaid sofas faced each other in front of it; two rose velvet arm chairs faced the fireplace itself. Maybe a dozen women were sitting and standing around in the hearth room and the kitchen, chatting amiably and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres. About half of them were nurses from St. Thomas. Margaret was there, as well, standing alone. Feeling a little relief, Tara went over to her.

Margaret smiled gratefully. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you. I can't remember that last time I was at one of these things, and I've been wishing I'd sent my regrets."

Tara nodded. "I wished that when I saw the duck on the porch." They both laughed.

It was a typical bridal shower: wine, little finger foods, silly games. Elaine opened her presents and everybody made the proper appreciative sounds at every piece of kitchen gear or stack of towels. Even with Margaret there, Tara felt out of place. It made her a little sad. There had been a brief time, when she was in Chicago, before she'd met Kohn, when she might have had a group of female friends like this. She'd never wanted a dried flower swags and ducks in rain gear in her life, but she would have liked a white picket fence and neighbors who smiled when they saw her, maybe invited her over for a cookout.

As the party progressed, the games got sillier and the women goofier—and louder. Tara noticed that the wine seemed to flow pretty freely; every time she took a sip from her glass, it was full. She wasn't feeling as sad and out of place as she'd been. She was starting to enjoy herself. Margaret, too. They'd giggled a couple of times over, well, nothing.

Huh. She was buzzed. Hadn't expected that.

At about that time, Melanie—whose home this was—clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Okay, ladies, it's time for the party to _really_ start. We've got a _surprise_ for you today! My neighbor, Bonnie, is a Surprise Lady!" A nicely-dressed woman in a pale pink Chanel-style suit came into the room with a huge wicker basket.

Tara had no idea what being a "Surprise Lady" meant, but most of the women oohed and clapped. She looked at Margaret, who shrugged. Then Bonnie draped a piece of red satin over a long curio table and started making a display of the items in her basket, and Tara was suddenly acutely interested.

Sex toys. The real deal. Including whips and floggers. Jesus. This was probably the very last thing Tara would have expected the woman in the pink Chanel suit to be selling. But then Bonnie took off her prim little jacket and was wearing a white fishnet camisole underneath. She had good tits. Tara took a sip from her bottomless wine glass and turned to Margaret, who was staring at the display with a gleam in her eye.

Okay, then.

In the past several days, Tara had gotten a crash course in these kinds of toys, and she knew already that the things in Tig's box were much more sophisticated than the things Bonnie had laid out here, but she was no less intrigued that she'd found herself at a sex toy party at exactly the moment she'd learned about her own appreciation for such play.

She was still feeling disconcerted by how much she was enjoying what she and Jax had been doing. She hadn't been able to figure out what it meant about her that she liked him to hurt her. She liked to be helpless under him. Even the thought of him binding her made her squirmy and wet. She loved it—especially when she was bound in a slightly uncomfortable position, like the first night, when her arms had been bound against her back. She loved the sharp pull of clamps, the sting of floggers, the rough intrusion of his fingers and cock not trying to be gentle. For all the years they'd been together, until these past days, their sex had been gentle. Intense, but gentle. The only time they'd been anything close to rough had been in the Cara Cara bathroom, when Ima had gotten her pissed off.

Ima. The whole time Jax was spanking her in her office, the thought of Ima and his unearned rage had been floating in the back of her head. He was angry—furious—with her for helping Otto get off. She'd barely touched him. Jax had _fucked_ Ima. Sure, he was trying to drive her away, blah, blah, blah. But the hypocrisy was strong nonetheless. It was always one rule for the boys and another for their women.

It didn't matter, though. Tara had known he'd be furious and that the hypocrisy would elude him. She'd wanted it. They'd been sitting across her desk eating lunch together, and the thought of him bending her over her desk, right there in the middle of the hospital, soaked her thong. She'd wanted him angry. She'd wanted to see how far he'd go.

He'd gone pretty far. And it had felt incredible.

She'd thought he'd been angry when he'd left her office that day. He'd left without a word. But when he'd come home late that evening, he'd walked up behind her where she was standing at the kitchen table, folding towels. He'd put his arm around her and kissed her shoulder. When she'd leaned into him, he'd whispered, "You okay, babe?" She'd nodded.

They hadn't said another word about what they'd done in her office.

When the party was over, Tara took a cab home; she was much too drunk to drive. She'd won a couple of prizes: a bright pink remote bullet vibe, and a little flogger with red plastic hearts at the end of the tails. She'd bought a sheer black body suit and had placed an order for two other outfits: a naughty schoolgirl set and a black open-bra set with stockings and a garter belt. She had a catalogue, too.

The thought of wearing the school girl outfit for Jax and receiving punishment for some supposed indiscretion had excited her more than was really polite. She'd imagined the shoes she'd wear with it, and the way she'd tie her hair in pigtails so she could twirl the ends around her fingers as she lisped her apologies. Maybe she'd been a little overeager when that outfit had been brought out. She'd gotten some funny looks from the other women; but not from Margaret. Huh? The thought slipped away, drowned in the wine she'd drunk.

The cab pulled up at her house before she'd even realized where she was. She'd been lost in the fantasy and hadn't been concentrating on the scenery passing by in the darkness. She leaned up into the space between the front seatbacks to pay her fare, pulling her bag up to set it on the console. As she fumbled in it for her wallet, which seemed to be deliberately evading her fingers, the little flogger slipped out and fell into the cabby's lap. His eyes went wide, and what started as nervous laugh became a choke, probably due to a little spittle caught in the back of his throat. Tara began to get really concerned, even through the alcoholic haze, as he just couldn't seem to catch his breath.

He waved her enquiries away, but couldn't seem to take his eyes off his lap. When she looked down to see what he was staring at, she realized she hadn't picked the flogger up. She grabbed it quickly, trying not to grab him, too, and stuffed it into her bag. That seemed to give the cab driver some room to breathe; although when she started fishing for her wallet again he flicked his fingers at her to get out.

"Girlie ya gonna finish me off. Get out afore ya give me a heart attack!"

Tara almost fell out of the cab in her haste to get away. She was embarrassed about what that guy must be thinking of her, walking around with a toy like that in her bag. He couldn't possibly know she'd only just won it, that she didn't keep it in there every day. He couldn't possibly know how badly she wanted her husband to use it on her, to feel the sting of the sharp tips of those little plastic hearts on her ass as Jax flicked it over her.

Tara realized she'd been standing, staring into space, for some time, lost on her little fantasy. She shook herself and delved back into her bag for her keys, which seemed to be following the example set by her wallet. Damn wallet was bad influence! She let out a tipsy giggle as she reached the door, her steps a little heavier than usual. She was about to lean on the door for some support as she searched, since she couldn't seem to stop swaying, but almost fell as the door opened just before she put her weight against it. She did trip over her own feet though, straight into the body of her husband.

Jax quickly let go of the door to grab her shoulders to steady her. When she looked up with a surprised "Ooff" she saw a smirk on his lips and his eyebrow quirked.

"Have a good time babe?"

"Yep." She giggled and nodded. "It was fun, although I think I just nearly killed the cab driver."

"I'm adding murder one to your rap sheet now babe? " Jax was still smiling. "What did he do? Give ya the wrong change?"

"Nope. This fell out of my bag!" Tara pulled the flogger out of her bag and waved it at Jax's face.

"Jesus." Jax's initial look of shock was replaced with an even broader smile. "You use that on him?"

"No, it jumped out when I was looking for my wallet."

"Just jumped out huh? Anything else in there gonna jump out?"

"Yep." Tara made an effort to pull herself up straight. "I got goodies. And a catalogue!"

Jax stepped round Tara to push the door closed and then put his hands on her shoulders and gently propelled her forwards in the direction of their room. Once inside he steered her to the bed and gave a gentle push until she sat down heavily on the edge of it. He shut the door of their room before kneeling at her feet and pulling her boots off one by one.

"So what else you got in that bag of surprises?"

Tara smiled proudly and began digging. "I got this."

She pulled out the catalogue. Jax paused a moment and took it from her. He quickly flicked through the pages "Darlin', this needs a thorough going through. Let's save that for another time." He slid it across the carpet in the direction of the dresser. "What else?"

"This" Tara pulled out the remote bullet vibe as Jax stood and began trying to get her out of her jacket. He took the small box from her and examined the two pieces of pink plastic through the clear window. "Oh babe, we're gonna have some fun with this! Is that all?"

"Nope. Got this too." Tara pulled out the sheer bodysuit. She watched as Jax pulled it out of the plastic wrapper. As the stockings and thong fell to the floor, his expression turned from query to appreciation, but he seemed to be struggling with the main part of the outfit. He twisted and turned the translucent black fabric, trying to make sense of it. He didn't seem to be managing it though. Whilst he was distracted, Tara pushed away from the bed and shed the rest of her clothes as quickly as she could, considering her fingers didn't seem to want to work right.

"Here. Lemme show you." She pulled it out of his grasp.

Ignoring his look of bemusement she snagged the thong and stockings off the floor too and pulled them on, trying to be careful not to catch the delicate material. Then she wriggled into the body suit. It took a bit of maneuvering to get all the bits in the right place, and it was less than elegant getting her head through the small elastic loop that served as a collar. She fumbled the garter clasps as she snapped them to the top of the stockings, but eventually she was able to stand, arms flung out to the sides, to exhibit her purchase to her husband. She even added a little twirl, although it came out clumsier than she was aiming for.

She stopped and waited for the room to catch up with her. When she could focus again, she looked at Jax, who was staring at her, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. "Oh, babe," he whispered.

She turned and checked herself out in the dresser mirror. Her new outfit was all fine black mesh: thong, stockings, attached to a body suit that left her breasts completely exposed, the fabric swooping snugly under and around them. She was a little blurry, but she was pretty sure she looked hot. She raised her hands and cupped her breasts, giving her nipples a gentle pinch.

Jax came up behind her; in the mirror she saw his hands coming around and sliding under hers. "That's my job, babe."

"Job? It's work to grab my tits?" She met his eyes in the mirror and gave him a flirty smile.

He laughed. "Yeah, but I love my work." He pulled sharply, and she lay back against his chest with a moan. He pressed his lips against her neck. "So you want to play with your new toys?"

She nodded, putting her hands on his and urging him to be rougher. He complied, twisting her nipples as he pulled. "Jesus, babe. Have I told you how much I love that you like it rough like this?"

Oh, she was getting so wet. Each beat of her heart was echoed in her throbbing pussy. She pushed her ass against his crotch and shimmied slowly. "Tell me how much you love it," she whispered.

He breathed into her ear as he told her. "I love the sound of the whip on your skin. I love the way your ass twitches after it's been hit. I love the look of your nipples all squeezed and stretched, and the way that makes you squirm." He pulled them again to accentuate his point. "God, I love the way you beg for more—and Tara, the way you come. You come so fucking hard. It's a thing of beauty, babe. I love to make you come like that. I think about it all damn day."

She thought maybe she could come just listening to him talk like that while he tortured her nipples so exquisitely. "God, Jax. I want it. I want you to do it to me now."

He released her breasts and stepped back; she whined at the loss and clutched at him, trying to keep him close.

With a chuckle, he pushed her hands away. "Easy, babe. I was just thinking your pretty little outfit was missing something. But I did some shopping, too, today. Figured I'd make the most of my mom havin' the boys." He walked to his dresser and brought back a large shoebox. "Fancy outfit like that needs the right shoes, don't you think? As luck would have it, I think I have just the thing. Great minds, babe."

Tara loved shoes, and she simply could not wait to see what kind of shoes Jax bought her that he thought would go with what she was currently barely wearing. Grinning greedily, she lifted the lid. With a small "oooh" of wonder, she lifted out one amazing platform pump. Six-inch heel. Black patent leather. With five buckles rising from the pump to several inches up the leg, it was almost a boot.

The perfect pair of bondage pumps. Perfect. She set the shoe back in the box Jax was still holding and clapped her hands giddily, like a little girl. "Put 'em on me?" she asked.

Jax set the box on the bed. "I was hoping you'd ask. But one thing I want to do first." He dropped to his knees at her feet and unfastened her garters.

"Wait—Jax. But the outfit goes with the shoes!" He was getting this all wrong.

"I know, babe. You're overdressed, though." She thought she knew what he was going to do, so when he slide his hand behind her knee and moved it slowly up the inside of her thigh, forcing her to part her legs a little more, she was surprised. When he reached her mound he cupped her in his palm and squeezed, just a shade more than gentle, pressing the already damp material closer to her body. The look on his face was probably the same one the Devil wore just after you signed over your soul.

He released her with another, shorter squeeze, then gently slid her new thong down her legs until she stepped out of it. "I want your sweet, wet pussy exposed."

Tara was surprised all over again when he lifted the scrap of lace to his face and inhaled deeply. "Gonna save these for another time."

He tucked the slip of black fabric into the back pocket of his jeans before leaning forward. He pressed his face on her pussy and gave her a long, slow, firm lick, flicking sharply over her clit to finish. _Oh._ That was great. She put her hands in his hair and tried to hold him where he was, but he pulled back, hooking her stockings to the garters again. "That's better. Now for the shoes."

Jax moved the shoe box from the bed to the floor by his knees. Tara gripped his shoulder to hold herself steady whilst he gently lifted her right foot and slid it into the shoe he'd lifted reverently from the box. He quickly fastened the five small buckles that fixed the straps which ran from over the arch of her foot to almost mid-calf. He repeated the process for her left foot before rolling off his knees so that he could stand in front of her.

Tara found she had a little difficulty standing in the shoes. They were higher than anything she'd ever worn before, although her feet weren't as arched as she would have thought they'd be from looking at the shoes. There was a good two inches of platform on the sole which prevented her from feeling the carpeted floor of the bedroom, it was a little like floating, or maybe like walking on stilts. The heels themselves weren't much help either; six inches high and only about a quarter inch wide at the tip. Taking into account the platform, they were really only four inch heels; high, but not outrageous. It was the lack of tangible contact with the floor and the spike heels mixed with the alcohol haze which really threw her off balance.

Jax had stepped back to admire his gift on her, but when she wobbled he quickly stepped forward. "They look like a dream darlin' but let's get you off them before you break an ankle."

He swooped her up, one arm behind her knees and the other around her waist. Her world spun for a crazy couple of seconds before he deposited her on top of the bedcovers. Tara maneuvered herself into the middle of the bed as the earth reached a level axis again. When she caught sight of Jax stood at the end of the bed running a _very_ appreciative gaze over her she lay back, flicked her hair out from under her shoulders, and stretched and arched, showing off for him. The way he looked at her made her feel desired, made her feel wanted, made her feel powerful, and it was sexy as hell.

She could actually see the moment his eyes cleared when the idea came into his head. He headed over to Tig's, their, box of tricks. He rooted around before holding up the bondage tape victoriously. "Think you're gonna have trouble keepin' still babe."

She pliantly kept her wrists together over her head as he approached and let him bind them. The wine was giving everything a golden, fuzzy glow. Whatever he wanted, she was up for.

She watched Jax as he made his way over to the items they'd discarded earlier. She couldn't see him when he bent to the floor, but when he straightened she could see he held the box containing the remote vibrator. He opened it, took it out of its plastic nest, turned it over a couple of times and then shot her an apologetic look. What the hell?

"Batteries not included babe. Back in a sec." When Jax left the room Tara's mind wandered over the thought that having kids in the house was a good thing. It usually meant there were batteries of all shapes and sizes around, although they mostly seemed to be flat. God she hoped he didn't dig some out of a toy somewhere; they probably wouldn't last five minutes.

Jax re-entered the room, inserting the batteries as he walked. No doubt he'd been worried that if he took too long she'd have fallen asleep, but there was no danger of that. Her skin felt like flames were gently licking her from the tips of her fingers right down to her toes, spending more time at certain points in between than others.

She heard buzzing as Jax tested that the toy was working, then with an expression of pure wickedness he nudged her ankles apart until he could kneel between her feet on the edge of the bed. She watched with extreme interest as he put the egg shaped vibrator into his mouth, rolling it around for a couple of moments, before pulling it out. Without speaking he reached forward and stroked two fingers up her cleft, finding her as wet as she had been before he'd put her on the bed. Obviously pleased, he slipped the two fingers into her and thrust gently. She moved against his hand, desperate for more, but he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with the pink egg.

It was wider than his fingers, but not uncomfortably so. It felt heavy inside her. Tara clenched a couple of times getting used to the feel of it. Then Jax turned it on.

"Aaaaahhhhh." Tara couldn't help her breathless gasp. This had to be a low setting, the vibration was almost a pulse, but it was still intense. She brought her knees up in reflex, rubbing her thighs together, rolling her hips against the covers, trying to increase the sensation.

"No way babe. I'm not having that." When Tara focused on Jax again he was stood in front of her holding the spreader bar, fully extended. He bent and quickly fastened the cuffs around her ankles, having to pull her legs straight to do so. It was slightly uncomfortable, the cuffs made a couple of the buckles on each shoe dig into her skin, but she was almost completely distracted by the sensation inside her pussy, especially when Jax turned the speed up.

Tara wanted to bring her knees in, wanted to clench her thighs, wanted to sit up, to move, to do anything to relieve or enhance the vibrations that were spreading out from the very centre of her. She could feel them in her throat almost. She tried to squeeze her legs together, but the bar got in the way. She brought her knees to her chest, but that only changed the angle of the egg inside her and suddenly it was hitting a few new nerve endings.

Jax turned it down to its lowest setting and Tara relaxed slightly. She tried to concentrate on him, to find some sticking point in reality that she could hold onto since her body was no longer her own. She watched as he ripped off his t-shirt, sneakers and socks until he was only wearing his jeans. She'd expected more, but once he'd undressed as much as he was going to, he made no move to touch her. Instead he picked up the remote again and spent some time experimenting with the settings. He tortured her without hardly lifting a finger, turning the speed up and down, leaving it on higher settings for longer and longer periods. He even walked around the room as if testing the range of the toy.

At first Tara was struck by the concentration on his face as he played with her body. He never took his eyes off her. She was being burned up from the heat rising inside her, but the gaze of her husband scorched her. She was panting and trying not to moan too loudly, thrashing her head and biting the soft skin of her shoulder to keep from crying out loud.

"If you can't keep still babe, I'm gonna havta punish you."

Jax' voice seemed to be coming from a long way off, Tara was drowning in the feel of everything, even the faint scratch of the cotton bedding felt intensely erotic to her. The message in his words, however, rang loud and clear. Tara wanted it, she wanted more, she wanted relief, she wanted him. She could barely think past the need for something, the need for more, but she arched off the bed as much as her bound wrists and the spreader bar would allow, vaguely aware of the way that the movement must have presented her dripping core to Jax. She could feel the moisture running down her slit, soaking the covers beneath her.

"That's it babe." At his tone, she opened her eyes just barely enough to look at him. Jax was smiling, but there was a heat in his eyes that wasn't quite as playful as his grin. Seeing that expression on his face, knowing what that meant for her, made her gasp and arch again, fighting against her own body.

"Turn over."

She stilled and regarded him for a moment without complying. He cocked his head and turned the remote off, instantly dimming the pleasure in her core. She whimpered, already missing the pulsing heat it made in her blood.

"I said turn over."

Now she complied—or she tried to. Her hands were bound together. Her ankles were bound apart. She was still abuzz with the glow of the bottomless chardonnay glass. The logistics of turning over were beyond her grasp. She rolled back and forth like an overturned cockroach.

That couldn't possibly be sexy.

Chuckling at her bewilderment, Jax stepped to the side of the bed. He brought her arms down, so that her bound hands were on her chest, as if in prayer. He bent her knees and brought her legs back up. Then he gave her a little push, and she got it. She rolled to her elbows and knees.

He gave her a sharp swat on her ass, which was mostly bare but for the swoop of black mesh across the top of her cheeks and the stripes of the garters down each one. Tara gasped at the unexpected pleasure. "That's it, babe." He pulled the pillows off the bed. "Now lie flat." That took a minute to work out, too, but Jax grabbed the heels of her fancy new shoes and tugged gently, helping her slid her legs down. Then she pushed her arms forward and lay flat, as instructed.

"Good girl." She couldn't see what he was doing now, but she felt the vibe start up again, low, inside her, and she moaned gratefully. Jax folded one of the pillows and shoved it under her belly, raising her hips as he'd done before. The shift of her body as he positioned the pillow, and the pressure it put low on her belly, dramatically elevated the pleasure of the vibe.

"Oh, Jax. God, it's good."

"I know you like it, babe. I know what else you like, too." She heard a small rattle and knew that he'd picked up the flogger with the plastic hearts. "Close your eyes." She did as he bade her. She loved knowing what was going to happen but not when. The anticipation heightened everything tenfold.

She heard the little rattle again and her body tensed, preparing for the blow. None came. The rattle again, and still nothing. And again. This time, he made contact, across the meat of her ass, and she cried out, her shoulders coming off the bed. The little plastic hearts bit at her skin and then were gone. She had to think for a second whether she wanted more of that.

She did.

"Tara? Good?"

"Yes. More," she whispered.

Again, he let the hearts rattle a few times before he struck. This time, when he did, he changed the setting on the remote at the moment of impact, turning the vibe way up. She screamed in ecstasy, and then he turned the vibe back to low.

From that point, every time he made contact, always on her ass, he turned the vibe up. She was in a frenzy. Her ass was scorching hot from the blows, her pussy was so wet it was running out of her in a stream. Her blood buzzed and burned its way all through her. She couldn't breathe for the pleasure in her, she couldn't think. On the fifth blow, she screamed past the point her voice could carry it and came, so hard and long she was afraid she was stroking out.

When it was done, she dropped exhausted to the bed, the vibrator still working busily inside her, making her twitch. Jax turned it off and gently, so gently, pulled it out of her. She could scarcely pay attention, lost in near-delirium, adrift in a warm fog of sated pleasure.

Then Jax, suddenly naked, was kneeling between her thighs, lifting her hips and pushing his hard, hot cock inside her. Once he was buried to his hilt, he lay down on her back, stretching over her, grasping her bound hands with his own. The pressure of his body made her ass sting pleasantly. He began to move, flexing his hips, sliding inside her slow and easy. The sheer fabric of the body suit she was wearing slid sexily between them. "Oh, Tara. Oh, babe, you feel good. You're scorching hot inside. I love you so much. I do, babe. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're everything to me."

He kept that easy pace, whispering love and devotion in her ear. For a long time, Tara simply relaxed into it, too sated from the shattering climax he'd already given her to elevate again. But then, eventually, Jax picked up his pace, moving more emphatically, pushing up on his hands and driving more deeply into her, and her blood started to kindle again. She shoved her knees under her to bring her ass higher, and Jax sat back and grabbed her hips, now thrusting with determination as Tara began to moan in time with his movements.

"Oh, yeah, babe. I want you to go again. Oh, you feel so good. Squeeze my cock. That's it, that's it, that's it. Oh, I love you." Jax brought one hand around to finger her clit, and that was all it took. Bucking counter to his thrusts, Tara came again, the heat blazing out from her core into the farthest reaches of her body. Jax was right behind her, grunting in feral pleasure.

As soon as they were both able to relax, Jax stood and released her wrists and her ankles. Then he gently unfastened the buckles on each shoe, easing them off her feet and giving each arch a quick, loving rub. Lying next to her again, he pulled her to lie on her back and took her in his arms. Her ass stung, but not sharply. Just noticeably.

Tara laid her head on Jax's chest, snuggling as close as she could. He put his hand lightly on her ass; the cool of his palm felt good on her enflamed skin. "That was amazing. Every time, it's better."

Jax chucked quietly; Tara liked the way it rumbled against her ear. "We're gonna have to give Tig his box, babe. He'll be back tomorrow."

"That's okay. We can get our own stuff. We're already starting." She felt loose, liquid; two intense orgasms and the biting sting of the flogger, had sobered her up quite a bit.

Jax shifted under her, shrugging his shoulder a little to get her attention. She lifted her head and looked up at him. He looked serious. "This who we are now, babe? The kink? You're really okay with what I've been doing to you this week?"

Tara had been thinking about it all week. She hadn't figured out why, and she wasn't sure she even wanted to figure out why, but yes. She was very much okay with what they'd been doing. She loved giving over control to Jax like that. And she loved the pain. She wasn't looking to get punched or bloodied, but she wanted the sharp sting of his hand or the tails of a flogger. She wanted the feel of her body being restrained. She wanted the look of power and fire in Jax's eyes when he gave her an instruction. She wanted the bliss of having no control over what would happen but knowing she was safe and loved. All of that was perfect. She'd never felt sexier. She'd never been more hot for Jax.

"I really am okay with it. I've wanted it all. You haven't done anything that I didn't want or ask for."

"At the hospital—"

She put her hand over his mouth. "You haven't done anything I didn't want or ask for. Are _you_ okay with what we're doing?"

He didn't answer right away. When he did, he brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "I love you, Tara. I've never loved anyone else, my whole life. I never want to hurt you. But yeah, I love it. I really do."

Tara grinned and kissed her old man. "Okay, then. If we need to give up that box of goodies over there, then we need to do some more shopping. Go get that catalogue."


	5. Chapter 5

Aaaand we're back. Another sacrificial lamb from Laughing Warrior and myself. You can thank the rest of the Freak Circle as well for this. Idle musings on Twitter led us to a very interesting place.

_**The mundane bit:**_

We own no part of Sons of Anarchy.

_Parental Advisory Warning:_ Contains activities of an adult nature, only to be performed between consenting adults.

A/N: I'd like to advise caution for anyone who thought Chapter 3 was a little on the dark side. I really don't think you'll find this one as bad, but I want to give you a heads up.

_**The interesting bit: Chapter 5.**_

The heavy door to the clubhouse opened slowly. A shaft of light sliced into the gloomy room. Jax considered for a moment that it was strange how the room felt so homely and comfortable until you got a glimpse of that bright, fresh sunshine outside; and then the inside just looked glum and dirty.

He stood as Tara walked in, letting the door fall closed behind her.

"Hey babe." He hadn't been expecting to see her at this time, but it was a pleasant surprise.

"Last meeting of the day got cancelled. I've dropped the boys off with your mom. I figured she'd like to spend an hour or two with them."

"Thanks for that darlin'. I know it's hard, but I appreciate you makin' the effort to get along with Gemma." Jax slipped his fingers inside her jacket, around her waist, and pulled her closer to him as she finished crossing the distance from the door to his seat at the bar.

It was a fine knife edge to walk, keeping the two most important women in his life happy. It had been a full-time occupation for him since high school that had picked up exactly where it left off the moment Tara came back to town. Since Thomas had come into the world it had only gotten more difficult. There were days when he thought it would be easier to offer himself up to Happy as a practice body than it would be to keep Tara and Gemma from tearing each other's throats out. No doubt, if these two ever got seriously into it, they would be going straight for the jugulars.

He let his fingers get distracted, tracing random patterns at the small of her back over her shirt. He was enjoying watching the naughty glint catch in her eyes as she began to smile, when he remembered.

"This was delivered here today. 'S'got your name on it."

He tilted his head at the box sat on top of the bar. It was a plain brown cardboard box. There were no logos printed on it. It was long and kind of flat. He had no idea what Tara had been buying online now. It looked like it could be boots. His mind pinged off at a tangent involving spike heels and shiny leather; he hoped she'd been shoe shopping!

A wide smile broke over Tara's face and she bounced up ad down a little on the balls of her feet, making little claps with her hands. "Yay! I've been wondering when that would get here."

Jax was amused by her sudden, giddy excitement. "What is it?"

"'Member that little order we put in a couple of days ago? This is it."

Ahhhh the toys! A sudden rush of adrenaline-fuelled lust pumped through him as he remembered what they'd ordered, remembered how excited they'd gotten going through the catalogue. He remembered how wet Tara had gotten, especially at some very specific assortments of toys. He did a complete mental run through of taking Tara quick and hard on the carpet where they'd been sitting as they'd gone through the little magazine. He still had the rug burns to show for it.

"Gotta say darlin', you might wanna rethink gettin' shit like this sent to the clubhouse."

Tara raised an eyebrow in question.

"The boys nearly cut it open and went through it. A package arrives that's not for the garage, we start thinking' it's a problem. Chibs especially's got this thing about bombs through the mail." Jax grinned and shrugged. "Tig just wanted to see if you'd ordered panties."

Jax watched, curious himself, as Tara's expression changed quickly from questioning, to horror, to amusement and then to something a little sly.

"Where are they all?"

"Workin' for once; or should be. Probably gossipin' like the old women they are over a smoke. You know what they're like. Someone don't stand over them nothin' moves in that garage." Jax leaned back, one elbow resting on the bar, the other hand resting loosely on his wife's hip.

He was left hanging when Tara spun and dived behind the bar. She rooted around for a couple of moments and then emerged, victorious, with a small knife. God only knew what a tin-opener like that was doing behind the bar. It looked like the pussy shit that was usually left lying around to slice lemons and stuff for drinks. There was none of that shit in the clubhouse. Even the croweaters knew better than to expect fruit in their fucking alcohol. There wasn't even a chance of a slice of lime in a beer. That shit didn't float in their corner of the world. Jax made a mental note to find out who the knife belonged to and to set them up in the ring with Happy just on principle.

He watched with an amused smirk as Tara neatly sliced the tape on the box, the precision she used in her work obvious even with that rudimentary tool. She placed the knife carefully on the varnished veneer before folding back the flaps of the box. Still practically bouncing with excitement she started pulling items out of the box one by one.

"Woah babe! Easy. You don't want to be flashing that shit round here. You'll get the boys all excited and I might not be able to calm 'em down."

Jax was partly worried about the ribbing he'd get if any of the guys walked in and found Tara examining the set of nipple and clit clamps he'd picked out for her. He was also partly worried that a couple of them, and by that he meant Tig, would start thinking things about his wife that they shouldn't be, not if they didn't want to be drinking their meals through a straw.

Tara's face dropped as the thought of the rest of their unconventional family seeing what was in the box dawned on her. "You're right." She started to put the toys quickly back in the box, but her face lit up again. "I'm gonna take these to the apartment, check them out."

"Why'd you get it delivered here?" It seemed like a big risk to Jax, he was curious about her reasoning.

"Simple, I didn't want your mother going through it if it arrived at the house whilst I wasn't there. You know she would've." Tara replied a little archly, barely stopping on her way around the bar, the box held in both hands in front of her.

Jax just shrugged his response. He couldn't argue with that, Tara was right. He watched his wife's ass sway under the short suit jacket she was wearing; and then a wonderful idea occurred to him that had him slipping from his perch on the bar stool, his eyes alight with mischief.

"Wait up babe, I'm coming with."

Tara turned in the hallway and waited, that sly smile on her face. Jax took the box from her and led the way to the apartment. He rested the box on his hip and opened the door, letting Tara in first. When they were both in, he closed the door and turned the lock.

Turning back to him, her head to one side, Tara gave him a flirty look and asked, "What did you have in mind?"

The bed was made and looked fresh. Jax sent a little word of thanks out into the ether that a few of the 'Eaters had been in doing laundry earlier in the day. He set the box on the bed and turned to his wife, taking her hand and pulling her close. Brushing her hair off her shoulder, he pulled the collar of her little jacket away and kissed her neck. "Thinkin' we should try these out, make sure everything works like it's supposed to."

"Here? Aren't you worried somebody will come over from the garage?" She put her hands in his hair and held him close, belying the reluctance in her words.

"Door's locked. Not like people don't fuck in the clubhouse every single day."

Tara pulled back at that and looked over to examine the bed.

"It's fresh, babe. Sally and a couple of the other girls were here doin' laundry today. Our timing's perfect." Jax put his hands on her face and grinned, feeling randy and adventurous. Their new play had changed some things between them. Other things, it had simply made stronger. Her felt more completely attuned to her than ever. "C'mon, babe. Show me what's in your box." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

With a laugh and a roll of her eyes, Tara pulled away and sat on the bed. He stood over her, his hand on her shoulder. From the box, she pulled the nipple and clit clamps set that was nearly the twin of the set they'd found in Tig's box. Tara had really loved that. She set their new set neatly on the bed, spreading the chain out prettily. She reached in again and pulled out a set of leather handcuffs. A spreader bar. Three different floggers.

Those pieces that were in their own packaging she opened, and she arrayed all of their naughty new toys across the bed. They'd spent hours with the catalogue, finding toys of their own that replicated those of Tig's they'd enjoyed. They hadn't gotten a chance to play with everything in that capacious box of kinky tricks Jax had brought out from the basement into the light, though, and Tara had chosen things from the catalogue that had intrigued her even though they hadn't yet tried anything like them.

So she'd also pulled from the new box a vibrating anal slider. A large, blue and clear glass dildo that looked like a piece of art. A large, black leather paddle. And, last but not least, a rattan cane that looked like something a cruel dictator in some far-away country would order used on dissidents. When Tara had pointed to its image in the catalogue, Jax had swallowed hard and asked if she was sure. She'd been emphatic. She'd learned she loved being struck—spanked, paddled, flogged. They'd tried just about every other kind of striking. She was curious about caning.

She laid the cane across the top of the array of new toys. Jax took it all in. Everything else they'd ordered looked, in fact, something like a _toy_. They were all pretty. They looked like they would be fun. Harmless. The cane, on the other hand, looked vicious. It scared him.

He combed his fingers through her thick, chestnut hair. "Which would you to try out now, babe?"

Without hesitating at all, she picked up the cane and flicked her wrist, making the long rattan wand sing in the air. "Let's try this," she said. Without waiting for his agreement, she handed him the new leather cuffs, too, and then began putting everything else back in the box.

Once she'd finished repacking the box, Tara stood and slipped out of her clothes, quickly. In a very business-like manner she folded them neatly in a pile on the floor.

"What's the rush babe?" Jax asked. Watching her getting down to business like this was a little... clinical, and generally not a great way to escalate the mood they were building. However, having a very naked Tara walk up to him and press the length of her body against his fully clothed one helped a little.

"We haven't got all afternoon, and I'd like to spend more of my time on the good stuff. If you don't mind, of course?"

"Not a problem with me darlin'." Jax laid a quick kiss on the tip of her nose before shrugging out of his cut and pulling his t-shirt over his head. He toed off his sneakers and pulled off his socks as Tara laid herself out on the bed, face down, arms stretched out above her head. He decided to leave his jeans on. He didn't want anything getting caught by the cane by accident.

Jax picked up the supple leather cuffs. Resting his weight on one knee on the edge of the bed, he gently encircled each of Tara's wrists in one of his own hands before fastening the cuffs securely around them. He watched as she pulled her wrists apart, testing the bindings. Apparently satisfied she grinned at him before turning her head away. He ran his palm across her shoulders and along the back of her neck, hefting the weight of her delicious hair on his forearm and pulling the silky lengths out and away from her body, laying them reverently over the pillow.

That brush of silken skin wasn't enough, it tempted him to more. He wanted to feel her, explore her, know her, own her. He ran both open palms from her shoulders, into the base of the back of her neck, squeezing the trapezius muscle firmly. He smiled to himself, he couldn't name every muscle in the human body like Tara could, but he could name the one's you didn't want to pull on the weight bench. He worked his way down her spine, his palms flat, his thumbs almost touching. When he reached the enticing dimples at the top of her ass he spread his palms apart and ran them up the sides of her rib cage, allowing his fingertips to gently brush the sides of her breasts, before bringing his hands over her shoulders and together again. He repeated the motion several times, thoroughly enjoying the way Tara squirmed each time he almost didn't touch her breasts.

His cock pulsed, bringing him back to the present. He'd been so caught up in the feel of Tara's body that he almost hadn't noticed that he'd become hard. He pushed away from the bed and picked up the cane. It looked brutal in its simplicity. There was something about it that deeply unnerved Jax, but Tara had asked for this and he didn't want to disappoint her. He wanted to be the one to give her the experiences she desired.

He tested it, striking once against the palm of his hand. The blunt, thudding feel surprised him. It hadn't stung as he'd expected, it wasn't the sharp, biting pain he'd imagined it would be. He also hadn't missed the way that Tara's hips at twitched at the sound of the blow and the way that she'd exhaled as if dissatisfied.

He didn't say anything; he didn't want to prime her. Instead he lifted the cane and brought it down sharply across the meat of her ass. Tara jerked and cried out. There was something wrong in the tenor of her cry; there was surprise and shock, but maybe something else.

"Again?" Jax wanted to make sure she was fully on board with this.

"Yeah, try again."

He lifted the cane again and brought it down a little below the red mark his first stroke had left across both creamy, twin globes. Her whole body jumped, but she didn't cry out. Taking that as good sign Jax struck twice more. The third and fourth blows landed on her thighs, one on the soft skin just under the cheeks of her ass, the other a little lower, probably about mid thigh.

Tara still hadn't made her sound; her only response had been a stiffening of her whole body each time a blow connected. Jax drew the cane back for a fifth stroke which landed across the first two on her ass.

Tara let out a cry, almost a scream. Jax froze, it was purely a sound of pain. When he really saw the deep red welts on Tara's skin he felt as though he'd dived into an icy pool. Horror washed over him.

"Fuck Tara! I don't like using this." He shook his head, even though she couldn't see as her face was still turned away from him.

Tara turned to face him. Disgust in himself caused bile to rise in this throat when he saw the tracks of tears shining on her cheeks. There was a degree of conflict in him in everything that he did to her. Beating her, whipping her, spanking her, all went against something that was deeply ingrained in him that you weren't supposed to do things like that to someone you loved, someone you cared deeply about. But the way she responded to those things, dear God the way she responded, the almost violent orgasms she'd achieved through some of their play, had assured him that it was consensual, that she benefited from it a lot. This was not like that at all. This was entirely too close to just abusing her. The thought of that turned his stomach sour all over again.

"No babe." He shook his head again, emphasising the point to himself as much as to her. "We're not using this one anymore. I just don't like it."

"I asked for it." The whisper that was almost a sob tore at him.

He knelt up on the bed again and quickly unfastened the bonds at her wrists, tossing the cuffs in the general vicinity of the box they'd been delivered in. He gently cradled her face in his hands, delicately wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

He touched his forehead lightly against hers. "I'm sorry babe. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Tara sniffed and rolled to her side toward him—she winced as she did so, and Jax felt that like a punch in the gut.

"Wait, babe. Go back to your stomach." She gave him a curious look, but she did so, and Jax felt her trust. He got up and went into the bathroom.

He'd remembered that somebody—some 'Eater or another, probably—had left a bottle of aloe vera lotion in there; he hoped it was still around. He opened the medicine chest over the sink but didn't find it. Rifling in the cabinet underneath, he found it behind a package of toilet paper and a jumbo jar of Vaseline. Yeah, he didn't want to know. He snagged the aloe vera and went back to Tara, who was still lying on her stomach, her tears now abated.

The welts across her beautiful ass and thighs were horrible: wide, swollen, and vividly red. They were going to bruise, and badly. It made him sick to know he'd done that to her. Everything that they'd been doing these past couple of weeks, all of it, no matter how intense and exciting it had been—if it had brought them to this, it wasn't worth it at all.

Her face was turned toward him, and he lifted the bottle of lotion as he walked toward her. She smiled gratefully. "Go easy, though, okay?"

"So easy, babe. No more hurt." Kneeling at her side on the bed, he squeezed some of the lotion on his hands. He rubbed it between his hands to warm it a little, but not too much—he knew the cool would be soothing, too. When he gingerly, carefully smoothed his hands over the largest, angriest welt, Tara twitched and gasped, but the sound went out on a sigh.

"That okay?"

"Yeah, it's good. Feels good. Thank you."

He took his time, soothing her, healing her, making up for the pain he'd caused her. When he'd tended to all of her wounds, he continued his caresses over her back and shoulders and along her sides, repeating the massage with which he'd started this encounter. Soon, Tara was moaning, and he knew that sound for what it was—pleasure. And arousal. He understood; touching her like this had made him hard again, despite his guilt and concern.

"Jax." She turned her head so she could meet his eyes.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Make love to me? Just you and me?"

That was something they hadn't done since he'd brought Tig's box home—just make love, just be close and love each other. They'd been on this crazy ride, going farther and farther away from what they'd known. He set the bottle of lotion on the side table and quickly shed his jeans before stretching out alongside his wife. Wherever this ended up; at this particular moment he wanted, needed, to feel as much of her as possible against him without barriers. "I don't want to hurt you."

She shifted to face him again, and this time, she didn't wince. Scooting close, she hooked her top leg over his hip, winding it around his thigh. She slid her arm under his, pressing her hand flat on his back. Jax could feel her core, hot and wet, on his cock. One slight shift, and he'd be inside her. "Like this. It won't hurt like this."

He grabbed her head in his hands. "Ah, Tara, I love you."

As he claimed a kiss, she reached between them and guided him into her. As their bodies came together, their moans mingled in their joined mouths. Jax thrust into her, loving the feeling of having her so close, her whole body melded with his, his hands in her hair, her hands free and moving over his skin. Fuck, he loved her so much.

He tore his mouth from hers, panting, and clutched her closer, wrapping his arms around her back. With each of his thrusts, she flexed in counterpoint, driving their bodies together.

She arched her head back, and Jax pressed his lips to her throat, sucking gently on her sweet skin. "God. Love me, Jax. Love me. Don't stop."

"I do, babe. I'll never stop." He brought a hand between them and cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb gently over her nipple.

He'd tortured this sensitive flesh over and over again; now he wanted only to be gentle. And she responded, whispering, "Oh, yes. That's good. That's nice." Her hips began moving erratically and more quickly, and he felt the shift inside her as her climax began. He almost grabbed her ass to hold her more tightly, but remembered her welts just in time. Instead, he hooked his hand around her thigh where it rested on his hip and pulled her close that way.

"Jesus, babe, oh, you feel good." He quickened his pace to match and then outstrip hers, driving into her harder and deeper as she climbed to her release. Whispering _yesyesyesyesyesyes,_ she took over suddenly, clutching his ass and bucking wildly against him. He stopped and let her have her way. She came with a whimpering moan, her short nails digging into his back, the tendons in her neck visible as she strained.

As she pulsed around him, Jax felt his own climax building, and he started to move inside her again. But she grabbed his ass to hold him still, then pushed him to his back and straddled him. She didn't sit fully down on his hips, though.

"Tara? Won't this hurt you?" She only smiled and shook her head.

Grabbing his hands and holding them at his sides, she rode him, never sitting down, never getting full depth. She moved only slightly, and he felt it all on the head of his cock. At first he thought it would only tease him maddeningly, but then the feel of her wet core focused nowhere but the head, the teasing itself, shifted his pleasure into something deep, and he thought he'd go crazy from intensity of the orgasm that was charging through his blood. He tried to move, to thrust, but she wouldn't let him, lifting away from him with every attempt. He could only writhe, and he did, until the pleasure overtook him, and he came, shouting his wife's name as if in prayer.

At the last possible moment, as he began to spill into her body, she dropped down suddenly, taking the full length of him into herself. It must have caught the welts because the sound that came out of her was unholy, but it obviously caught something else too because she started to come again, hard. Tara dropped forward almost immediately, her head resting on his shoulder, her hands still wrapped around his by their sides. Her pussy was still pulsing around him as she straightened her legs to take the weight off her bruised skin.

Jax unwound his fingers so that he could wrap his arms around her. He just wanted to hold her. He couldn't shake the feeling that one day she would just slip away from him, and the small snake of doubt within him whispered that if she did it would be something that he'd done that had driven her away.

He kissed the top of her head. "You OK darlin'?"

He was worried when she didn't answer for long moments, but then she flexed and stretched against him. He was still buried in her, even though his cock was beginning to soften. Those small movements made it perk up a little causing Tara to squirm again. If she kept this up they'd be going again. That wasn't a bad thing as far as he was concerned, but he was concerned about hurting her more than he already had.

"Babe?"

"Mmmmmmm."

"Did you actually just purr?" He tilted his head to look down at Tara with an amused smile as she turned her face towards his. The expression on her face could only be described as blissful.

"Mmmmmm. That was lovely." Tara's voice was low and throaty, a little roughened by her screams.

"Guess it doesn't hurt to have it straight up once in a while, huh?"

Tara's only response was another purr as she cuddled closer to him.

~~o0o~~

Tig had paused when he'd heard the scream. He'd only come into the clubhouse to get another pack of smokes, Hap had bummed his last one. He'd thought he remembered leaving a spare pack behind the bar, but he hadn't been able to find it, so he'd gone on a mission.

He'd been about to search the apartment when he'd recognised the distinctive sound of a cane on flesh. He'd paused, hand hovering above the doorknob, wondering which of his brothers had finally released their inner freak, when the scream stopped him dead. He was sure it was Tara, but he couldn't imagine who would dare hurt her. Who would dare betray Jax in such a way, and in the clubhouse of all places?

Then he heard a male voice. He strained to hear who was betraying his president, their leader. After all, it could only be a brother in their inner sanctum, a civvie would have never made it this far past them all.

He breathed a sigh of relief when, his body almost sagging, when he realised it was Jax' voice he was hearing. But then the curiosity gripped him. Jax and Tara getting carried away in the clubhouse was unusual enough these days, but that had definitely been a cane he'd heard, he was certain of it.

He carefully pressed his ear to the door, willing the world to stop turning. The last thing he needed was one of the other guys coming stomping along and announcing their presence. He could hear movement, and voices, but couldn't make out individual words. Whatever had brought about the scream had stopped, the only sounds now where low and calm. He had no idea ho long he'd been there when the noises behind the door started to increase in volume and intensity. He didn't need to guess what was going on, moaning like that meant only one thing.

Interesting. Tig put two and two together and came up with freakery. Jax and Tara and a cane. Something had obviously not gone quite to plan for Tara to scream like that, but whatever had happened; she certainly wasn't holding it against Jax. He listened a little longer, but then he heard Phil calling his name in the bar area.

Tig retreated swiftly and silently, determined not to interrupt, or to allow anyone else to interrupt, the couple so obviously taking advantage of the opportunity to grab a little afternoon delight. As he made his way to head off Phil, his mind turned back to the sound of the cane; and suddenly he remembered a box that he'd left in the cellar. No one had mentioned it at all when they'd recounted the story of the flooding. There was no way that any of his brothers would have missed the opportunity to make a few remarks about the contents of that box, unless... Tig decided that he needed to speak to Jax about the stuff that had been found in the basement. He had a strong feeling that their esteemed chief knew exactly what had happened to that box.


	6. Chapter 6

Those idle musings that I mentioned at the beginning of Chapter 5...this is where they led us...

_**The mundane bit:**_

We own no part of Sons of Anarchy.

_Parental Advisory Warning:_ Contains activities of an adult nature, only to be performed between consenting adults.

_**The interesting bit: Chapter 6.**_

Tig took a deep lungful of the warm evening air. The sun was low in the sky, a molten orange ball. There were no clouds, just a play of vivid colours as the sky began to bleed into the inky night. It had been a hot day, almost unbearably so, and Tig could still almost taste the heat. The scent of the heated blacktop and the lingering exhaust fumes of the cages driven by the khaki set wrapped around him like an embrace.

He shrugged his cut a little more comfortably onto his shoulders and patted his pockets for his smokes, before he realised it probably wasn't a good time to light up. Tig wasn't uncomfortable about this mission, but he couldn't see the outcome of it yet. He hated walking into things blind, and there were a lot of unknowns in this scenario.

Fuck it! Just get over and done with. Go home; grab a cold beer, feet up and TV on. With those thoughts in his mind he raised his hand and rapped out a succinct tattoo on the door.

As he listened for the footsteps on the other side that would herald a response, he thought about the contents of the box he'd left in the cellar of the clubhouse. He'd left it there so that everything didn't end up being thrown around on a Friday night by his drunken brethren. He didn't give a shit if they knew he owned a spreader bar or a flogger, but he'd be damned if he was using them once they'd gotten all sticky with beer and collected the gummy residue of crumbs of food and cigarette ash. He'd never be able to feel as if he'd gotten them properly clean; so he'd put them in the basement, what they don't know and all that shit.

He heard steps approaching the door and his mind worked over several thoughts very quickly. The steps were light and there had been a delay. That meant it was Tara that was going to answer the door and that Jax wasn't home. He hadn't seen a bike when he'd pulled up, but it could have been in the garage. He thought about what he'd heard earlier that day, the sounds of the cane and the cries. Damn but he hadn't been able to get Jax alone all day to have a word with him instead of just turning up unannounced.

The door opened smoothly, without a sound, the hinges very obviously well oiled. The errant notion that Jax wasn't ignoring his duties as man-of-the-house flitted through Tig's brain. That brief concept of his President taking care of business in all aspects of his life eased Tig a little. He registered the surprise followed by caution flowing across Tara's face. That was all perfectly natural, she wasn't expecting him. He didn't usually just call round off-hand, and if he was there it probably meant serious news from the club.

He couldn't help himself, it was almost a reflex when it came to women, he ran his eyes over her, assessing her. She was dressed in a little grey satin dressing gown that came to about mid-thigh. Tig wasn't one for Fashion Police, but what should have been denim-tentingly sexy was relegated to the realm of trailor-park grandmothers by a colour that was usually only seen on old corpses. Tig could appreciate a good corpse, but there was no need for living, breathing women to dress like one. Tara's hair was wet, turning the robe almost black at her shoulders. Hmmm, not long out of the shower then. Tig's overactive imagination ran to thoughts of water beading on pale skin and it was only Tara clearing her throat that brought him back to the present.

Tig coughed into his fist before asking. "Hey. Is Jax home?"

"Not yet. Is there a problem?" She was still standing in the middle of the doorway, one arm outstretched as she held the door, yep she was blocking him. He got on with Tara just fine, but him turning up like this had her hackles up.

"Nah doll. Just need to pick some shit up."

"Ahh. Come in." Tara stepped aside, motioning him into the house. Interesting, she hadn't asked any more questions.

Tig stepped over the threshold enough for Tara to close the door behind him, but waited for her to precede him into the house. He knew that would make her more comfortable.

As she turned and walked down the hall Tig nearly went to his knees. Underneath the hem of that godawful robe was a linear bruise cutting across the backs of both thighs. It was fresh, he could tell. It was just turning blue and purple, but the edges were still a vivid red. He'd seen bruises like this before, it was from a cane. That just reinforced the conclusions he'd come to standing outside of the apartment door in the clubhouse. These two kids had started playing and Tara had gotten hurt. Tig hoped it wasn't too serious. It would be nice to think they knew what they were doing, but that vibrant bruise told him otherwise.

Once Tara had realise he wasn't the bearer of bad news, she had visibly relaxed. She was at ease and had a smile for him. He'd seen his fair share of frightened women, so whatever they were doing she was on board with it; but he'd bet his left nut a bruise like that hadn't been in the plan.

Tara waved him over to the sofa as she walked into the kitchen. Tig sank into the sofa, hearing her open the fridge. He heard the sound of Jax' bike outside and the noises from the kitchen let him know that Tara had been getting a beer for him and that she'd heard the bike too and was re-opening the fridge to get another beer for her husband. Tig accepted the bottle of Budweiser that he was offered and took a swig as Jax walked into the room. Tara handed the other bottle to Jax and gave him a peck on the cheek before retreating back into the kitchen. Tig watched it all, looking for any sign that something was off and finding nothing.

Jax sank into the chair without asking Tig what he was doing there. Tig took that as a sign that Jax knew damn well what he was doing there. Might as well get straight to it. "So, the basement flooded?"

"Yeah." Jax took a drink of his beer and didn't elaborate.

"I had a box of stuff down there. Wondered if it survived?" Tig didn't miss the spark that lit in Jax' eyes. Oh yeah, the boy knew where his gear was. "Any chance I can get it back?"

Tig didn't realise Tara had been paying any attention to their conversation, but when Jax' gaze shifted and he looked up to follow it he saw Tara walking in with the box in her hands. It was taped shut. He hadn't taped it. What was the point in cutting the seal every time he wanted to dip into it?

"Thanks doll." Tig smiled as he shifted forward to take the box from Tara.

"I didn't want the little guys getting into it." She offered with a half smile, nodding at the box, obviously referring to the tape.

"Appreciate you keeping it safe." He was going to take the box, finish his beer and leave, really he was; but then his mouth opened and sound came out before his filter kicked in. "You two been into it?"

"Huh? What?" Tara almost stumbled back, whipping round to look at Jax. Jax stayed immobile in the chair, stoic and expressionless.

Tig grinned. "Don't bluff me. I know you two have been into it. You got 'guilty' written all over you. I also know there's nothing in there that put that bruise on the back of your legs doll."

Tara's face was a mask of pure horrified embarrassment. Jax absently dropped one hand off the side of the chair to touch Tara's leg behind her knee. She jumped a little at the contact, but then leant into it a little.

"Hey kids." Tig held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Jax wasn't giving anything away but common sense put the money on him wanting to land a good right-left combo. "Don't mean no disrespect. If you like to play I ain't gonna throw rocks from my glass cabin. No way, no how. But you look like maybe you could use a couple'o' pointers. Just sayin' is all."

Jax just stared, and Tig started to sweat. He was talking to his president, after all, and he and Jax had a complicated, often acrimonious history. Tig had just taken a monumental risk even mentioning Tara's bruise. There was a chance that right-left combo would be followed by a bullet, or at least a gun butt.

But it was a nasty bruise, and, well, Tig really liked Tara. She was sweet. Still a little innocent, even, especially where the club was concerned. But she stood up to Gemma, and that took a strong spine. Tig understood why Jax loved her. He had a little crush himself. The thought that there was some freak in that cute, curvy body . . . that was a nice thought.

It bothered him a lot that she'd gotten hurt, and he took some responsibility for it. If it was his box that got them playing, and that had gotten them to caning, then he felt a duty of some kind to get them straightened out. Caning was not for beginners. Caning was edgeplay. Looked like they knew that now.

Finally, Jax spoke. "What the _fuck_ do you think you're suggesting, asshole?" Tara looked down at her old man, and Tig thought he caught something in her attitude—the way she was standing, or the speed with which she turned her head—something that suggested maybe she was interested in what ol' Tiggy had to say. She didn't say anything, however. She simply turned back and met Tig's eyes.

Tig held up his hands again. "I said I don't mean disrespect, brother. I'm offerin' some help. I know some things. You know I know some things. If you were in this box, there's some pretty advanced shit in there, but none of it is as hardcore as a cane. That's what made that mark, right? A cane? Big one, by the looks of it.

"Get the fuck out of my house, Tig. Now. Take your box of perverted sex shit and get out before I beat you to death." Jax was still sitting, but the menace and intent in his voice made that no disadvantage.

Tig saw Tara react to the way Jax had described his toys. She didn't like that. "Jax, wait." She put her hand on her old man's shoulder, and Jax jerked his head to look up at her.

"Babe, no way."

Tara sent a look to Jax that Tig read as determined. Interesting. Then she looked at Tig. "Tig, why don't you stay and have a drink?" Jax moved his hand from her leg and crossed his arms, but he stayed quiet.

Tig nodded. "Sure. No big plans tonight."

Smiling sweetly, Tara said, "Good. Jax'll get you one. I'm going to go quick and change."

Tara walked out of the room, towards the bedroom Tig supposed. He wasn't paying much attention because his president was currently staring daggers at him. Jesus, if the phrase "A look that could kill" was true, then Tig knew he'd be six feet under. He had absolutely no idea how to play this. These two were obviously exploring some boundaries, but the dynamic was off. There was no way Jax was the sub, it simply wasn't any part of his nature, but he was going against his gut feelings for his wife.

This was going to get very messy unless someone gave Jax the power back in this situation. Tig had no idea how to do that. He had the knowledge, which gave him some power, and Tara had the desire to learn, which gave her leverage over Jax. Jax was doing something against his will and potentially having his ignorance highlighted, no wonder he was in a shitty mood. Plus he'd obviously just massively insulted his wife by referring to the toys as 'perverted'. Tig was sure Jax was going to pay for that little slip several times over.

Tig was still wondering how in the hell to negotiate the minefield before him when Jax' demeanour changed. He stopped staring at Tig and started concentrating on a random point on the wall behind the sofa. It was a 'thousand yard' stare. Jax wasn't wholly in the room. He was unconsciously stroking his beard, something Tig had noticed as a nervous tic. There were still lines of anger etched into his President's brow, but he really seemed to be conflicted.

Jax looked back to Tig and regarded him for long moments through narrowed eyes.

"You don't touch her. Understand?"

"Sure man, of course." Tig couldn't put his hand on his heart and say he wasn't disappointed about the request, but ultimately if it meant Tara wasn't going to be walking around with any more marks like the ones he'd seen, he would comply.

"I mean it. You don't fucking touch her. She's mine. Whatever you think is going to happen tonight ain't. Hands Off!"

Tig supposed his reputation warranted the extra threat. "I hear you loud and clear Prez. Jax honestly, I ain't gonna touch her, but if you two wanna play without one of ya getting' hurt then you need a little help."

Jax scowled, but didn't answer. Tig could see the muscles in his jaw twitch, and almost, but only almost, flinched when Jax pushed himself out of his chair. He turned slowly, keeping Jax in his line of sight, as the younger man went into the kitchen for the drinks that his wife had instructed him to get.

-o0o-

The situation was so utterly bizarre and unexpected that Tig still wasn't quite sure just how they'd all progressed from the living room to this point. He was currently stood next to Jax and Tara's California King. Tara was laid out like a wet dream. She was on her stomach, her cheek resting on her folded hands, wearing a silky, short, midnight blue negligee. Several bruises marred the backs of her thighs and peeked from under the hem of the shift.

Tig took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Okay boys and girls. I ain't plannin' on usin' the cane, but I want you to show me what you did with it."

Jax walked over to a set of drawers on the far side of the room. "I tried it on my hand, it didn't hurt that much. I expected it to sting but it didn't."

Tig watched as Jax opened a drawer and rooted for the cane at the back before bringing it over. "On your palm? Show me."

Jax hefted the cane and brought it down against his outstretched palm with a thwack. Tig noticed Tara jump out of the corner of his eye, but he was concentrating on Jax and couldn't make out her facial expression to gauge her reaction.

"Okay." Tig nodded. "Now hit it against the end of the bed. Imagine Tara's lying there."

Jax hesitated. Tig could tell that something about this unnerved him. Either he'd enjoyed marking his wife more than he cared to admit, or he was seriously upset that he'd caused her hurt. Tig was going to bet his money on the latter. He knew he was right when he saw the caution with which Jax raised his arm, but the boy brought the cane down on the comforter with a solid stroke. It whistled through the air and landed with a muffled thump.

"Mmhmmm. It's OK. You made a rookie mistake, but it's OK. When you hit your palm you caught it with this part of the cane." Tig stepped forward and laid his fingers on the half of the cane from the handle to mid-way.

"A blow from that part doesn't sting, it feels sorta blunt. But you hit Tara with this part." He indicated the other half of the cane from the middle to the tip. "You've got to be careful how much force you use with this part. You can do some serious damage if you hit too hard, especially if you hit bone. You can chip bone, crush vertebrae. That's how they do punishment. Pure punishment. Pain without the fun."

Tig wasn't surprised at the looks on Tara and Jax' faces, fear mixed with curiosity. He got that look from people a lot when he went into details about the really kinky stuff. Well, everyone except Hap, but that guy set a whole new level on freakery, especially punishment freakery. Tig had seen Hap use a cane extremely effectively, and not in the good way that Tig liked to use one.

Jax dropped his head, shaking it. When he looked back up he looked first at Tara, his face full of sad remorse. By the time he looked back at Tig it was fixed with determination. Tig knew that Jax wanted to learn whatever he was able to teach him. He was horrified by the thought of causing such permanent damage to his wife. Jax had a reputation for being impulsive and out of control, but Tig knew that was just the exterior. Underneath Jax was a control freak, determined that everything should go his way, be perfect in his vision, and this would be no different. He'd known it from the first days that Jax had trained in the garage. The young man had had an obsessive compulsion to get everything just so, and that force still drove him during all the following years, evident in the way he manipulated the club to bend to his will.

Tig put his hand on his President's shoulder. "Try it with the bottom half, and across the sweet spot of her ass, just above her thighs. More meat there, and it just . . ." he paused, feeling suddenly in dangerous territory, talking about his President's old lady's ass and how its sweet spot was so closely tied to the nerves in her pussy. Jax had a look, too, like Tig was crossing a line. "It just feels better there. And she's not bruised there. Stay away from her bruises."

He'd given Jax a fairly tall order. The bruises striping Tara's ass didn't leave a lot of room for error. Jax would have to be precise. He nodded and, with a last glance at Tig, raised his arm.

Tara's head was turned to the side Jax was on, and she'd been watching. Now, her whole body tensed. "Wait! Wait, wait!"

Jax dropped his arm. "Okay, babe. We don't have to do this. It's a bad idea anyway."

Tara rose up onto her elbows. "No, it's just—I"—she looked down at the comforter, away from Jax, as if she were nervous or ashamed to finish her sentence. The tension in the room increased suddenly, as Tig, and apparently Jax, too, predicted what she would say.

She took a deep breath and blew it out quickly, as if she'd drawn courage from it and was casting away what was left. "I think Tig should do it first, show you how."

Yep. That's what Tig had thought. His cock pulsed at the idea, but his sphincter clenched at the thought. Jax would have his head. Both of them. Suddenly, offering his tutelage seemed like one of his least wonderful notions. He couldn't imagine getting out of this room alive if he laid hands—or cane—on Tara.

Jax dropped the cane to the floor. "No, Tara. Absolutely not. He's not fucking touching you." He turned to Tig. "Get out."

Right. Tig nodded and moved toward the door. But Tara sat up suddenly, and almost shouted, "No!" It stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to face her and Jax. Tara was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, her hands primly pulling on the hem of her filmy negligee so that it covered the dark space between her thighs. She was staring a Jax, her eyes full of meaning and intent.

Jax was staring back at her, and though Tig couldn't see his face clearly, he got all the information he needed from the rigidity of Jax's stance and the shake in his tightly coiled fists. When he spoke, his voice was low, a menacing snarl, the words directed at Tig even as they were addressed to his wife. "I will kill him if he touches you."

Tara didn't even blink. "No, you won't. He's helping us. I want this, but I don't want to get hurt like before." She paused, and then Tig saw a look flash across her eyes. He didn't recognize it, and then he did: shrewd. She was about to play her hole card. "I don't want you to hurt me again."

_Holy fuck._ Tig was stunned, and he felt incredibly awkward, as if he were eavesdropping on the private workings of this couple—because that's exactly what he was doing. Tara fought dirty. It turned him on even more, sharpened the edge of his little crush. She might be a bottom, but she wielded real power in this marriage. Tig had known that, of course. It was obvious—Jax spent a lot of time twisted up over his home life. Tig wondered what Tara would think if someone confronted her with the fact that she was every bit as manipulative as Gemma.

Jax actually took a step back, and his fists uncoiled. "Tara, don't. Please." That "please" spoke volumes, as did the resolute expression with which Tara met it.

She was undeterred. "I want you to know how to do it right, Jax."

Even before Jax responded, Tig knew what the immediate future held. He should beg off. He should get the fuck out right now. Jax—his President—didn't want this. There was nothing good that could come from playing this scenario out. But he was almost vibrating with excitement. Of all the freaky scenarios he'd thought up and played out in his long, adventuresome sexual life, this one, this one right here, topped the cake. Caning the Queen of the club while her old man watched? For starters?

_Dear Penthouse, I never thought this could happen to me._

It took him awhile. For several long, fraught heartbeats, Jax and Tara merely stared at each other. Tig wished he could see Jax's expression. Tara's was steady. Unwavering. But finally, Jax nodded. "Okay, babe." He turned on Tig with a look of undiluted loathing. "You hurt her, you die."

Well, that was a problem. Caning was about pain. "Jax, it's gonna hurt, no matter what."

"You know what I mean. Do it right." Jax bent down and picked the cane up from the floor where he'd dropped it. He handed it to Tig, but didn't let it go right away. They both held on, their eyes locked. "Short leash, asshole. I mean it."

The wee little voice of reason, so hoarse from screaming unheeded for all of Tig's life, tried one last time: _Get the fuck out of here_. Instead, Tig nodded, and pulled the cane out of Jax's hand.

Since Jax was scowling at Tig, he didn't see the small smirk of triumph that crossed Tara's face, but Tig didn't miss it. He was going to be very, very careful around this lady from now on. He'd known she was smart, but now he could add dangerously manipulative to her stellar list of qualities. Her movement caught Jax eye as she turned and lay back down on the bed, fidgeting with the shift to ensure it preserved at least a little modesty that Tig thought might be an effort to save him from a painful death. She stopped though, resting on her front, supported by her elbows. She bit her lower lip as if hesitating to ask something, but her eyes were glowing. Tig's inner sense of self-preservation shrugged its shoulders, threw up its hands and stalked off in disgusted defeat.

"Jax... I...I... want to be... bound."

She might have stuttered but she hadn't taken her eyes off Jax once whilst she made her request. Jax looked as though he was about to have an aneurism. Tig thought he might spontaneously come in his pants.

With another hard look of warning at Tig, Jax stalked over to the drawers, returning with a roll of tape. Once Tara was assured of his complicity she stretched out fully with her arms over her head, crossed at the wrists. Jax knelt one knee on the bed to reach over her, but with an angry huff pushed off and set the tape on the cover. Tara's brows drew together until she realised his intention. Jax stripped out of his cut, laying it over the back of a chair already laden with discarded clothing, then he reached down and grasped the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth move. He dropped it on the seat of the chair before returning to the bed. Without looking at Tig he picked up the tape and efficiently bound his wife's wrists. The boy had skills, but since binding someone was a transferable skill in their line of business it was only to be expected.

Jax stepped back away from the bed. Tig swished the cane through the air a couple of times, just testing the weight of it, and came to the same conclusion that Jax had. He laid the can carefully on the floor at his feet and straightened, holding his hands palm out towards his President.

"Don't go nuclear man, just need some range of movement is all."

Jax looked a little confounded until Tig shrugged out of his cut, then he looked murderous; but after a glance at Tara, chose to remain silent. Tig folded his cut and laid it on the floor away from the bed, then quickly unbuttoned and stripped out of his shirt, folding that too and laying it on top of his cut. He didn't swing that particular way, so the idea of being half-naked with Jax did nothing for him. However, the idea of Tara being bound on a bed with two half-naked men about to punish her in turn did all sorts of things to his libido, most of which were sure to get him killed.

He picked up the cane and tested it again; giving it a few leisurely strokes through the air and couple of firm ones that resulted in a thwack even though the cane didn't connect with anything. He stepped up to the bed and half turned to face Jax who was still several feet away.

"You're gonna havta get closer bro." Jax didn't look happy about it but he stepped up anyway.

"Right. I'm gonna aim for a medium blow, like I said, just underneath the cheeks, and I'm gonna use the thicker end of the cane."

Jax nodded, jaw obviously clenched. Tig figured that was all the go ahead he was going to get. He turned to Tara. "You ready doll?"

"Yes." Tara barely breathed the word and buried her face in the pillow.

"Nuh huh doll." He waited until she'd turned back to face him. "Keep your face to me, I need to see what you're feelin'."

She flushed a pale pink, but obediently laid her head down with her face towards them.

Tig turned to Jax but made no further movement. "I'm gonna need to move that shift. I need to see where I'm aiming." As he'd hoped, Jax moved forward and gently lifted the deep blue silk, folding it back on itself to reveal the curve of Tara's ass. There were five bruises showing vividly against her milky white skin

Tig waited until Jax was clear before circling his wrist to loosen it, then he lifted the cane and brought it down on high on Tara's thighs, perfectly between two of the bruises. He was assured that he'd hit the mark he was aiming for when a breathless moan escaped from Tara's lips. Tig turned to Jax, mainly to check he hadn't drawn a gun on him yet, and was both surprised and gladdened by the look of revelation on Jax' face. When he turned back to Tara her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted. A few more bad thoughts ran across his brain, but he managed to rein them in. At least until she gasped "Again."

Tig turned back to Jax, thinking that this was why he never played with more than one other person unless he was the assured dominant; getting the OK from everyone involved was downright exhausting. Jax nodded his assent.

"OK, but I'm only gonna do one more, and then Jax can do two. No matter what you ask, otherwise you're really not gonna be able to sit down tomorrow."

Tara nodded and opened her eyes. This time her burning gaze was directed at him. Tig decided to just ignore that for the time being. Instead he concentrated on the specific portion of flesh available to him and brought the cane down firmly. The moan that followed was playing serious havoc with his self control, but he was here for a specific task. He handed the cane to Jax. "Your turn boss. Count to ten between them."

Jax moved into Tig's place beside the bed as Tig stepped aside. He laid the cane gently over the spot that Tig had aimed for, lining up his shot, then he raised his arm and delivered the blow.

Jax looked to Tig and Tig nodded his approval. Tara had signalled hers with another moan. Jax turned back, paused and then brought the cane down for the fourth time. It was another good shot. Tara moaned more loudly this time and ground her hips in little movements against the bed. Rational thought pretty much left Tig's head. He'd seen a lot, but this was beyond erotic, especially knowing the power play that was going on between the two of them. Tara had Jax twisted round her little finger, but she obviously also craved dominance from him, severe dominance at that.

"Jax...?" Tara's breathy plea had her husband by her side instantly, the cane lying forgotten on the floor. Tig hated to be the one to interrupt a free show, but there was a vital step they were ignoring. He cleared his throat causing both heads to whip round towards him.

"Jax, you got any lotion around." Jax didn't look quite as angry as Tig had expected him to.

"Sure." When he walked back over to that damn drawer Tig followed him. Yeah curiosity killed the cat, but cats had nine lives baby.

Jax didn't seem to realise Tig had followed him until he'd pulled the drawer out and lifted a bottle of aloe lotion from it; but when he realised Tig was there, instead of slamming the drawer shut, he moved out of the way and allowed him to take a look.

The contents were fairly standard as far as Tig was concerned, and some were pretty much exact replicas of the items in his box, but one caught his attention.

"You used this yet?" Tig motioned at the one he'd found particularly interesting.

"No." Jax answer was curt, but his voice unsure. Tig figured this was another area that they hadn't fully explored yet and could probably use a little guidance in.

"It got batteries in it?"

Jax lifted the piece of purple plastic out of the drawer. It was attached by a thin wire to a remote with a wheel-control for the speed. The toy itself was straight, thinner at the tip and wider at the base, with five bulges along it that graduated in size in accordance with the shaft itself. Jax turned the semi-transparent remote over and turned the wheel a little with his thumb. The main part of toy emitted a low buzz as it started to vibrate.

"Guess so." Again the short answer with the hesitant tone.

"Hey man. Tell me to leave if you want to, but I can help you with this. This is one you don't wanna mess up either. First tip, you don't start off putting the whole thing in." Tig's little inner-self was giddily clapping its hands at the possible compromise it had just been presented with. A way to play without actually getting hands on. Of course, it would probably mean a couple of 'Eaters would bear the brunt of his lust when he got back to the clubhouse, but Tig knew he'd make it worth their while after this little excursion.

"Okay, but you lay one hand on her skin and I will shoot you right here in this room so help me God. And your pants stay the fuck on." Jax hissed the command.

"Got it boss." Tig nodded. "You got any lube?"

Jax fished around in the drawer a little and pulled out a small bottle of lubricant out from underneath a leather restraint that Tig recognised as a copy of one of his own.

"Hey, what're you boys whispering about?" Tara called from the bed.

They both looked over their shoulders at her, but neither answered her. "You got a blindfold too?" Tig asked Jax in a low voice.

Jax simply nodded, fished a length of black jersey out of the drawer, and pushed it shut. When they returned to the bed and laid the blindfold, lube and anal slider next to Tara her eyes widened. She looked at them both with complete shock and Tig felt disappointment flood him, it was obviously a step too far for her. Then her expression changed to one of what could only be described as pure delight. Well, well, it looked like the night was about to get very interesting indeed!

Tig turned back to the dresser and grabbed the bottle of lotion. He handed it to Jax. "First things first, boss. Use this where the cane was." Jax nodded and flipped open the lid. He squirted lotion into his hand and set the bottle down, then rubbed his hands together to warm it.

Tig watched, feeling rapacious, as Jax pushed Tara's negligee away and put his hands gently on her ass, caressing her, working the lotion into the skin of her cheeks, her thighs, her hips. Tara gasped and moaned at his touch, shifting her legs and shimmying her hips slightly, absorbing the cooling soothe of the aloe. It was so sensual and sexy Tig thought he might pass out.

Jax was certainly into it. "That feel good, babe?" It almost seemed to Tig as if Jax had forgotten he and Tara had an audience. When Tara purred, "Mmm-hmmm," and lifted her hips toward her old man's touch, Tig put his hand on his crotch and squeezed the rock hard length of his cock, glancing at Jax to make sure he didn't notice. Tig had a feeling Jax would take it ill to see him so turned on by this display. But Christ, how could he not be? He couldn't believe he'd managed to restrain himself from joining in. His sense of self-preservation must not have gone too far—probably hanging around to watch from the back.

Tig watched, agonized, as Jax untied the string at Tara's nape, the one holding the negligee up over her chest, and slid it down slowly, letting the blue silk caress her as it moved over her back, her ass, her thighs. She raised her hips to help him and moaned again. When Jax picked up the strip of black fabric and tied it around Tara's head, covering her eyes, Tig felt dizzy. Then Jax went back for another palmful of lotion.

He kicked off his sneakers and knelt on the bed, massaging and stroking Tara all over. Tara continued to moan and writhe, and Jax straddled her and began kissing her back and shoulders as he caressed her. Tig was beginning to feel tortured, all this touching and moaning and him standing off in a corner squeezing his cock from outside his jeans. He groaned in frustration before he'd realized he'd made a sound.

The dance on the bed stopped, and Jax turned a venomous look on him. Without taking his eyes from Tig, he pressed a kiss to Tara's shoulder and came off the bed. Standing in front of Tig, he growled, "Show me."

He was in this far. Leaving now, and refusing them, would be as dangerous as staying and giving them what they wanted. Tig was walking a tightrope, and forward was the only option—that or a fall to his doom. He cleared his throat. Still looking at Jax, he said, "Tara, doll, you should come up on your knees." He heard the rustle and swish of a body moving on linens that told him she had complied.

To Jax, he said, "Use the lube on her and on the slider. Not so much that it's dripping. Just slick." Jax nodded and did as instructed. Tig watched, taking pains to breathe steadily and stay quiet, as Jax circled his lubed finger around Tara's tight, pale, lovely anus. With her pretty, round ass in the air, Tig caught a glimpse of her pussy, swollen with want. She was shaved, at least partially. Jesus, he couldn't believe he was _seeing_ this. He averted his eyes before Jax noticed him looking, but the image was burned on his retinas as if he'd been staring too long at the sun.

"Okay." Jax said just that one word, but he made it count. Tig could hear violence, anger, uncertainty—and arousal, powerful arousal—in those two syllables.

"Use your finger first, help her get loose. Then ease it in, slow and gentle. No farther than the third bead." _Don't look, don't look; fuck, don't get caught looking_. He tried; he really did. But Tara gasped, and the sound was so rich with delight and desire his eyes told his brain to fuck off and forced him to turn and watch that pretty purple slider move into Tara's ass.

Every muscle in Tig's body felt taut with need. He bent to pick the remote off the bed, but Jax's hand clamped around his wrist. Tig cleared his throat and said, "It would be better for you both if I ran the remote." Tara gasped at that, and when Tig looked over at her, she was smiling.

Jax saw it, too. "Why?"

"If you're inside her, you'll feel it. It'll be better if you don't know exactly when things change."

"I'm not having sex with her while you watch, you fucking pervert."

That seem a pretty small nit to pick at this point, but Tig held his tongue. He didn't need to say anything, anyway; Tara had this.

"Jax, I want it."

The torment was vivid on Jax's face, and Tig felt sorry for him. Things were going far out of his control, and he was lost. Tig stood and waited for his President to make his call.

He let go of Tig's wrist. "Fuck. What are you gonna do?"

Palming the remote, Tig checked it out closely, careful not to start the motor just yet, since the slider was already in Tara. Talk first. Get permission. "This model doesn't have set speeds. The dial just spins. What I'll do is vary the speed. That's all I'll do. And when the time is right, I'll tell you to pull on it. The beads pulling out one at a time at the right time will be good for her. The vibrations you'll both feel."

Jax sighed. "Jesus Christ." He opened his jeans and dropped them and his boxers to the floor. It did not escape Tig's notice that for all his protesting, he was every bit as hard as Tig was. But he was going to get to do something about it.

Taking yet another risk, Tig said, "It would be better if she was face up. The weight would—"

Jax cut him off. "No way. You're not seeing her like that."

Now it was Tara's turn. "Jax—enough!" Holy shit. Now Tig was starting to worry he was going to die not because of the sex but because he was seeing far, far too much of the seamy underside of this marriage. These two had a real tug-of-war going.

Jax ran his hand down his face and over his beard. Then he turned sharply back to the bed and flipped Tara over with a force that ran right up to the edge of violence. She bounced and gasped as the slider shifted inside her.

Her arms were still over her head, bound with the tape. And there were her tits, still moving from the force of Jax flipping her. Nice tits. Firm despite the kid. Her belly was soft but lovely, and she was indeed completely shaved. Jax spread her legs and moved between them. Grabbing her around her knees and pressing her legs to her chest, he shoved into her roughly, and she cried out. He leaned down and growled at her, "Later, I'm gonna make you pay for this, babe."

He probably thought he'd spoken too low for Tig to hear, but Tig was paying keen attention, and his senses right now were sharpened to a laser edge. He heard Tara's sharp intake of breath that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire.

Under his influence, both passive and active, these two were becoming quiet the baby freaks. Tig felt pride. He was so puffed up with it he almost forgot he had a role here.

Jax was going at it pretty hard. Tig knew he'd better get the vibe working or the opportunity would be lost. "Okay, I'm going to turn on the slider. You kids do your thing. He thumbed the dial slowly, stopping about halfway.

Tara arched her neck backwards with a long, moaning gasp. Jax muttered, "Jesus Christ!" and shot a look over at Tig as picked up the pace of his thrusts.

Tig couldn't help but notice that Jax had a really fine ass himself. He shook that thought off quickly and turned the dial down on the vibe.

He played with them like that for a surprisingly long time, moving the dial randomly, eventually realizing that he was controlling _both_ of their orgasms with the speed of the vibe inside Tara. And Christ, she was into it. She was a fiery fuck, responsive and emotive, moving fiercely under Jax even as she was bound and blindfolded. Jax was all business, almost grim in his determination, but every time Tig upped the vibe, his whole body went rigid and his head pulled up.

Tig himself felt miserable with the need for release. They'd been playing at this for a lifetime, it seemed, and his balls must be almost purple by now. He needed to put an end to this torturous lesson and get himself back to the clubhouse. He turned the vibe all the way up.

Tara responded wildly, immediately. "Fuck! Oh, fuck, fuck, Jax, fuck!"

It was time. Tig took a step closer to the bed, "Now, boss, reach down and pull the slider. One bead. You'll feel it."

Jax was thrusting laboriously, sweat running down his face and chest. He couldn't find the end of the slider and keep moving, and he looked at Tig, confused and too far gone to show anything in his expression but a need for help.

His sense of self-preservation shrieked "NO!" from way back by the exit as Tig said, "Okay. I got it," and reached behind Jax, between his legs and Tara's, and wrapped a hand around the end of the slider. As Tara hit another peak on her rolling path to orgasm, he pulled until a bead, the largest that had been inside her, came out.

She came immediately, screaming almost operatically, her legs popping out from between their chests and splaying wide. Jax came then, too, with a groan as if from a searing pain, and Tig pulled the slider the rest of the way out as Tara jerked spastically. He turned the remote off.

He was surprised he hadn't come in his jeans. He stepped to the far end of the room, needing a moment to collect himself and knowing they needed some privacy. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. As he was buttoning, Jax stood and grabbed an afghan from the end of the bed. He tossed it over Tara's gasping, glistening body. "Stay put," he ordered his wife.

Then he grabbed his jeans and yanked them on. Thus dressed, he walked up to Tig and puffed up his chest. "Not a word."

Tig shook his head. It was more than self-preservation that would still his tongue. Tig wasn't a gossip—but it was more than that, too. What had happened here was special, somehow. Private. For him as well as for them. "'Course not, Jax. It dies with me."

"Yes, it does. Get out."

Nodding, Tig grabbed his cut and glanced at Tara. He felt like he should say . . . something. Anything he could think of seemed dangerous, though. So he simply said, "See ya, doll," and left the bedroom.

On his way out, he picked up his box. It would be awkward to ride with it, but he had bungees in his saddlebags. He strapped it down as securely as he could and mounted his bike.

There had damn well better be 'Eaters around the clubhouse. Several of them. He had some shit to work out.

-o0o-

And that is the end for Pandora's Box. As much as Laughing Warrior and I have had an absolute scream writing it, we don't feel we can top this chapter. We hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as we have enjoyed writing it.

Thank you for all the follows and favourites and all the wonderful reviews. :-x


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